Republic City Noire
by IGdude117
Summary: Crime. Corruption. Violence. The "City of Dreams" doesn't live up to its name, but there are some that can navigate its brutality well enough; Private Detective Rai Osada is one of them. Rated T for violence, language, alcohol, sexual references, and some mature topics. Cover image from the Avatar Wiki.
1. Chapter 1: The Case of the Morning After

I open my eyes groggily, wondering how late I slept in _this_ time. I yawn, then hold my forehead, grimacing as pain shoots through it like a hot spear through a paper shield. I glance over at my rickety nightstand, and gulp down the water there greedily. The first sip indicates that it is, in fact, Cactus Juice Extract and my head gets fuzzy all over again.

 _Oh well_ , I think to myself. _Not like I had anything planned today anyway._

I swing my legs over the side of my bed and settle my feet onto the wooden floorboards of my bedroom, yawning. I pad over to the bathroom tenderly and look at myself in the mirror. I can't exactly remember what happened last night, but I know it involved copious amounts of drinking; my red eyes and pounding hangover attest to that.

The tanned, black haired, golden eyed woman who stares at me looks foreign, almost. The scar that frames the left side of her face is starkly white in the flickering light of my bathroom, and the splotchy, painful-looking burn wound covering my right shoulder looks even worse in the darker light of my apartment. I guess I could open my blinds, but that would require effort, and that's just not something I'm looking to do right about now.

I rub my eyes, then run the rusted faucet, waiting for the tint in the water to dissipate before splashing myself with water, waking me up slightly.

Then, a slim pale-skinned girl comes into view in the mirror, scaring the daylights out of me.

"Rai? You okay?"

I look at the girl in abject confusion, having no recollection of who she is.

"Uhm… yeah. Sure. How… how are you?"

 _Damn. Not again._

The girl smiles, buttoning her shirt up again.

"I'm doing alright. I had a… well, it was a pleasant night."

I smile again, wondering if I pull off the expression alright or if it just looks like I'm a maniacal psycho who is grinning wildly.

"M-Me too."

The girl leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

"Look me up if you come back to Club Glacier again. I gotta go, I've got work in a few hours. See ya around, Rai."

I smile again, hoping it doesn't come off as _too_ disingenuous. The girl slinks away, and I lean against the sink. After a few seconds, the door closes with an audible _creak_ , and I resolve not to drink so much again. Not that this sort of experience is new, of course, but as I turn reluctantly, looking at the age-stained shower in distaste, I recall that this is about the tenth consecutive time I've woken up to an utter stranger in my bed.

Of course, I have enough confidence in myself that I'm sure there was no funny business going on. From reports, I'm even meaner drunk than I am sober, but all the same I like to remember my escapades.

Though at this point, I've committed to the drunkard role, so I might as well keep going.

I sigh. I like to think that I'll get out of this lifestyle sooner or later, but the fact that I haven't had a real job for the last month or so is more than a little discouraging for my prospects of wealth. If I _have_ any prospects of wealth.

I shake my head, shedding my shirt and underwear, stepping into the shower and praying there aren't any more sea-beetles in the drain.

* * *

I step out into the refreshing coolness of a new day in Republic City. If I were a happier person, I'd probably grin foolishly and break into song like a bad musical or something, but I'm not, so I just grimace at the temperature and shove my hands deeper into my field-coat's pockets, gathering the warm coat closer.

I glance around. Tiger-Shark Alley, if it could even be considered an alley, is bustling with activity. Satomobiles honk obnoxiously as throngs of pedestrians shout, curse, and generally make it their life's mission to be loud and annoying as I take in my surroundings. I look for the usual; menacing figures in dark coats, flashy gangsters in tricked-out satomobiles, or cops in uniform with a less than pleasant expression. My gut tells me I won't see anything, but it never helps to be careful. In my twenty-nine years in this world, I've made more than my fair share of enemies.

I walk down the sidewalk, withdrawing the slightly wrinkled roll of smoking herbs I keep around as a habit from my days in the military. As I walk, I bend a small flame on the tip of my index finger, and inhale the pungent smoke, enjoying the tingling warmth that spreads through me. Cigarettes- that's what they called it in the military, if I remember right- are probably bad for my health, but so is putting myself in life-threatening danger and drinking, so that's kind of a moot point now.

I weave my way through the crowd before turning into Xianghai Express, my favorite Earth Kingdom Cuisine this side of Gyokai Borough. Xiaochou, the bearded and more than a little odd owner of the joint waves at me as I enter.

"Miss Osada! Miss Osada! Here, come sit at my best booth. You want usual? I give _great_ prices, only five yuans for a bowl of noodles and fried rice!"

I smile, the hangover throbbing a little less intensely as I take the seat.

"Thanks, Xiao. Can I get some pomegranate juice? I had, uh, a little bit too much to drink last night."

Mr. Xiaochou puts on an exaggerated, almost paternal expression, wagging his finger as he jots down my order.

"Drinking too much is bad, you know. Make the mind go WILD. Drink juice instead; I have this new juice. Old friend, works in that metal city now, he make this drink with kale, walnuts and-"

I hold up my hand, smiling tiredly.

"That's alright, Mr. Xiaochou. Pomegranate juice is just fine. Unless you have Baiju for sale."

He giggles loudly, and walks away. I stare at his back, a bit perplexed by his odd personality, but I shrug it off soon enough. Xiaochou is a nice guy, and if that means he's a bit weird, then so be it. I'm not exactly one to judge.

I stare out of the window as the first drops of rain begin to fall. Pedestrians start running for the cover of shop overhangs, or withdraw straw umbrellas from bags. A police cruiser clanks by idly, driven by a bored-looking constable in a gray uniform.

At length, Xiaochou returns, and takes the seat across from me without an invitation. I look at him with an uncomfortable expression for a few seconds, but shrug and dig into the tasty noodles. I'm not what you would call a _sociable_ person, but a little company here and there doesn't hurt.

"You have new case recently?"

I shake my head, slurping the noodles down hungrily.

"Not since that clothes shop robbery case I solved last month."

"Exciting," he says, dryly.

I sigh, looking at the old man.

"Yeah, I know, but it paid well. I'm on the lookout for other cases, so if you hear of anything…"

He nods with a beaming smile.

"I let you know if I get murdered. Then you can take over my noodle shop. Spirits know my son don't want to."

He makes his high-pitched, tittering laugh that he always does. Then, suddenly, his face falls.

"You best be careful, Miss Osada. Equalists are getting popular now. Soon, all benders will be in trouble with them."

I nod grimly. I try not to pay attention to politics, but the increasing frequency of Equalist flyers and speakers in the city is troubling, to say the least. It's not the first time anti-bender sentiment has risen, but it is more popular than the other movements. Amon's leering mask is more common than campaign posters for the municipal board elections these days, and that's never a good sign.

"Of course, I not like them. I no bender, but I have no trouble with you. Sure, there are bad benders, but there are bad nonbenders too. To me, just bad people. I don't discriminate."

I nod in thanks.

"On behalf of benders everywhere, I appreciate that," I say, sarcastically.

"Sure. You my favorite bender of them all. How else will I light my stove?" he asks, before devolving into giggles again.

* * *

My walk around the neighborhood is relatively quiet. I started the habit of taking walks when I first moved to the city; I wanted to familiarize myself with its streets and people first, but later it became more of a method to clear my head and stay in shape. Growing up in Fire Fountain City, things were a _little bit_ more idyllic than Republic City, but not by much.

In truth, the cramped streets and blazing heat of Fire Fountain City harbored the same disease as Republic City; the curse of innate conflict arising from the wealthy rubbing shoulders with the poor every day. The same old tale that was apparent from the streets of Ba Sing Se to the rivers of the Southern Water Tribe.

I smile to myself with that thought. I'm beginning to sound a bit too much like the Equalists, I realize.

I sigh, breathing out a cloud of smoke, and I lay the cigarette butt in the palm of my hand. I crush the ashes between my fingers, and they float away in the chilly air like cherry blossoms falling from trees. Foul-smelling cherry blossoms, I guess, but the analogy works better in my head.

I look up at the tall, five story brick building that has been my home for the last six years. 30 Tiger Shark Alley, Apartment 11 C, Gyokai District, Republic City. A shabby, poorly-maintained apartment in a shabby, poorly maintained, more than a little shady part of town. A building that has been witness to my high and low moments all at once.

Spirits, maybe the building should be considered family. More family than my _actual_ family, at least…

I push the thought from my mind. No use in dwelling over the past. Or so I like to tell myself; it's hard to resist sometimes.

I shoulder my way into the building, walking up the red-carpeted creaky stairs for two stories, and walk down the ill-lit hallway, pausing by my door to listen to my neighbors screaming at each other.

They're nice people, but they obviously hate each other's guts. The man, a janitor at the university on the north side, wants to sleep with me. He's not bad-looking, so I wouldn't really mind something like that, but I'd rather not move out, so I give him the cold shoulder whenever he tries. Ironically, I'm fairly sure his wife, the conservative schoolteacher at a local secondary school, views me in a similar way. Might be the cause of their troubles; not acknowledging who you are isn't exactly the greatest boon to a relationship.

Then again, they're still a couple and I move from lonely reject to lonely reject, so they're obviously doing something right.

I walk down the hallway again, and I tuck my hand in my sleeve and use it to wipe a smudge off of the tarnished plaque attached to my door.

RAI OSADA, PRIVATE INVESTIGATO, it reads, though the "R" in the title is obscured by a greenish stain that I really don't want to know the origin of. Yet that doesn't worry me as much as the fact that my door swings open as try to remove the blight.

The door clunks against the wall of my living room- office, I suppose, now- and I am on alert.

For a moment, a memory flashes through my mind with all the unpleasantness of a flaming fever. A man in a red jacket, laughing cruelly through a shaggy beard as flames spring to life around me.

Another life. Another time.

I shake my head, and bend a flame in the middle of my palm, creeping into my entry hallway tenderly. I check in the closet, and see that nothing is amiss there. My ears strain to hear something- _anything_ , but nothing comes. I turn the corner, cautious and primed for a scrap, before seeing the woman lounging in one of the armchairs I set aside my office desk for clients.

The woman is beautiful. That's my first observation. I am, after all, a _detective_. Dark, coppery skin is framed by glistening black hair, tied into a braid. Her eyes are green- a shining green that penetrates the soul- and her mouth curls into an amused, sensual expression.

I'm either completely smitten or hypnotized. The flames coalesce over my knuckles as I ball my right hand into a fist. Pretty dame or not, she's intruding in my house.

"Miss Osada, I presume?" she says. Her voice is rich.

"You presume correctly. Who the _hell_ are you and what are you doing in my apartment?"

The woman smiles knowingly.

"I'm not here to start trouble. I have… well, I've got a case for you."

I extinguish the flame reluctantly. I cross over, looking at her distrustfully, before shrugging off my coat and sitting in my chair, crossing my legs and regarding her.

"Well?" I ask, perhaps too harshly.

"The case is my boyfriend," she says.

She lifts her left eyebrow, as if to say _I'm taken, so you can stop ogling me._

"Alright," I say, trying to make sure I don't look too disappointed.

"My boyfriend and I came here two years ago. We grew up in the Si Wong Desert."

"Sandbenders?" I say, testing her.

The woman's eye twitches, a carefully hidden gesture of annoyance.

"I'm not a bender. But yes, we're from a sandbender tribe. I don't know if you've lived in the desert, Miss Osada, but life in the desert isn't exactly an ideal life. Republic City seemed like an infinitely better choice than the tribal life."

"I'd imagine not. You do seem too good for a rustic life," I reply wryly.

She smirks again.

"I suppose."

"Why not go to Ba Sing Se? Much closer, and immigration is a lot easier."

"Have you _been_ to Ba Sing Se?"

"A few times. Doesn't seem much different to the dregs of Republic City."

"You may be right. I wanted a change of scenery."

I nod somberly.

"Anyways. Why do you want me to investigate your boyfriend? An affair, hopefully," I venture daringly.

She makes no response, her head dipping in sadness.

"Nothing like that. It's… well, his name is Vinh. Two weeks ago, he told me he was going to a nightclub with some friends- the Darklight, in Chadu Heights. I didn't hear from him for a while, which is normal. His job keeps him busy for days at a time. After the first week, though, I got worried. I checked with his friends, with people who had seen him, and turned up nothing. I haven't heard anything from him; neither have his parents. I'm… well, I'm worried. I want you to find him. People say you're one of the best."

I light a smoke, breathing out a cloud as I scribble notes in my notebook.

" _Some_ people. Have any leads?"

She looks taken aback.

"No. Just the nightclub."

I simply nod. Typical.

"My rate is 50 yuans an hour. I'll need a number or an address so I can give you updates. If you want me to do anything outside of normal investigation, that's going to be extra. I'll also need 500 yuans upfront."

Jasha nods in return.

"Just find him, Miss Osada," she says, pulling out her purse.

She hands over the bills in a nice, tidy stack. I count them quickly, then open the locked drawer beneath my desk, dropping the cash in.

"I can start tomorrow," I say with a genuine smile.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way, but for now, I'm just happy. It's good to be back.

* * *

 **I'm back! So this project is kind of related to my _Memoirs of a Metalbender_. As I was writing that series, I really realized I kind of wanted to explore the noir feel of Republic City, and the story's theme made that a bit difficult to capture, not to mention it was beginning to feel a lot like my previous story _The Story of Qin Lee_. This new series is my attempt to write in the typical noir style, and is very much inspired by things like _Jessica Jones_ , _L.A. Noire_ , _Chinatown_ , and other staples in the noir genre. **

**I figure that Korra Season 1 and 2 gave us such great noir moments (say what you will about " _The Sting_ ") that I'd try my hand at it myself. **

**As for why I've been gone so long (for anyone who's interested, and I don't blame you if you're not), I've been working a full time job, helping out with the Probending Competition community, and working on my own independent novel. I'm starting to burn out on the latter though, so I'm taking a break to return to my favorite hobby.**

 **Enjoy, and feel free to provide feedback!**

 **IGdude117**


	2. Chapter 2: A Cabaret in Carmine

I've seen and lived in a lot of interesting cities throughout my life; Ba Sing Se is grimy, dangerous, and incredibly green-colored. Fire Fountain City, the Capital City, they're overwhelmingly red. The food there is spicy, the people even more so. The Southern Water Tribe is likewise very blue, very cold, and very rich.

Haven't gone north yet, and Spirits willing I won't have to. Likewise with the Air Temples. Hear they're beautiful, but unless Councilman Tenzin wants to hire me to spy on his siblings or his wife, I don't much see the point in going up there.

Yet Republic City is a different beast altogether. Here, the color scheme that the nations love to adhere to is absent. On one street, you'll see the red of the Fire Nation, blue of the Water Tribes, green of the Earth Kingdom, and in all likelihood, the yellow of the Air Nomads. Every culture is mixed here. The big old stewpot, as they say.

There's something inspiring about it, I suppose. Not to me, of course. The only things that inspire me these days is a fat paycheck or a bottle of booze.

The taxi lets me off right in front of the main plaza in front of Central Station. I thank the driver and tip her a few dollars, on account of being nice enough to leave me the hell alone on the ride over, and I stick my hands in my pockets, pausing by the statue of Firelord Zuko.

Growing up in the Fire Nation, you'd think I'd be tired of old Scarface's visage popping up everywhere, but he seems to be an alright guy, so I don't dwell on him too much. I'm sure he's not the paragon of virtue everyone makes him out to be, given that his daddy (and extended family) were genocidal, power-hungry maniacs, but he himself seems to have kicked the habit, so I move on.

A group of street urchins run by, and one kid brushes by me, and I feel my wallet _almost_ slip out of my coat pocket. I grab the kid's arm, and he squirms.

"Hey, lady, let me go, wouldja? I didn't do nuthin'!"

I grip his arm harder.

"You want to lift a wallet, kid, you'd better finish the job and run like hell. I'm not an easy mark. Got it?"

He nods nervously, and I let him go, continuing on my way.

Central Station is busy, even now. The night shifts of the municipal power plants and factories are going home about now, and I share the line with oil-covered factory workers and tired-looking electric workers alike.

I get my ticket from the overweight, exhausted clerk, and I wait on the platform. My breath clouds in the chilly air, and the clouds rumble like angry badgermoles. I sigh, turning my collar up. My eyes follow a police airship as it floats languidly through the dark sky, before its spotlights blink to life and an eerie siren echoes through the sounds of beeping and clangs.

A bell rings.

"The 10:30 train to the South Bayside Station is now arriving. All passengers, prepare your tickets for inspection."

I scrape my shoe against the cold concrete of the platform as the train rumbles in. Once the screeching of the brakes subsides, the doors clatter open and disgorge a wave of workers. I stand my ground as the tide of exhausted men and women break around me. Eventually, it stops, and I hurry into the train, grabbing a bench near the doors. The train lurches after a few minutes, and we're off.

I look around. The train is pretty empty. A few miserable folks sit in dismay, but there is quiet at least. I reach around in my coat, and withdraw my leather notebook, opening it.

 _ **Jasha- Immigrant from sandbender tribes. Lost her boyfriend a few weeks ago. Is definitely hiding something.**_

 _ **Vinh- Boyfriend got lost after visiting the Darklight nightclub in Chadu Heights, in the South Bayside District. Possible Triad connection?**_

I linger on the last point. The Darklight Club is a nice one; I've been there a couple of times, to keep up with contacts the first time, the second to have a good time.

Bayside Borough is a decent enough part of town. It's the waterbender quarter of the city- nicknamed "Waterworld" by some. The Cultural Centers of both tribes, the amusement parks, and the restaurants are all top-notch down there. Of course, the whole borough is Red Monsoon territory.

The Red Monsoons aren't the worst, as far as Triads go. They have a code of honor, they keep things pretty clean, and they mostly run legitimate businesses. Unlike the Agni Kai Triad, if you wrong them, they usually just stick to killing you messily. They typically leave families alone, unless they _really_ hate you.

The owner of Darklight is a woman named Tayani. Cold, calculating, and pragmatic. A middle-tier associate in the organization, I had a few run ins with her in the past, but nothing too bad. I figure I can get at least a few murmurs out of her for a few yuans.

I grab a nearby pole as the train lurches. I glance out of the window, watching the city pass by. The flashing, colorful lights of bars and nightclubs give the neighborhoods a cheerful feel, one that almost manages to cut through the brownish-gray smog of the city.

My mind goes to Jasha again. The sandbender seductress has been on my mind a lot lately, but that's probably more because I'm a scummy, lustful drunk. And trying to put the moves on a woman who lost her boyfriend recently is pretty low, all things considered. Not to mention I don't even know if she's into other women. People are pretty accepting around here, but that acceptance doesn't really negate the fact that people in the city are not always the nicest, no matter who you like to smooch in your free time.

The train journey goes by slowly, and by the time we pull into South Bayside station, I'm feeling the time. I dismount the train and hail a cab to Darklight, hoping that I have enough yuans left to get me home.

Darklight is crowded, but I expected it to be. The end of the working week always sees eager saps joyfully part with their money for a chance to taste the high roller life. I watch the cab drive away, and stick close to the wall, ignoring the angry murmurs of people as I cut them in line.

The bouncer gives me a sideways glance as he sizes up a group of young students trying to get in.

"You got papers, kid?" he asks the lead boy.

"N...No. I don't… I don't _need_ papers. I'm 18."

The bouncer laughs.

"Kid, you're not even fifteen yet. Come back in a few years, and no sooner, unless you want to be _politely_ cuffed in the head."

The students slouch away, and the bouncer looks at me with a hostile look.

"Lady, if you ain't in line, you ain't getting in. Scram."

I stare him down.

"Tayani and I go way back. Tell her Detective Osada is here to talk to her."

The bouncer looks taken aback, and whispers something to the other bouncer on duty, drawing shouts of anger from the waiting people. After a few minutes of shrugging of hateful glares, the bouncer returns, and nods.

"Go right on in, ma'am," the bouncer says, sullenly.

I nod, and go in, ignoring the chorus of protests from behind me. Inside, the boisterous music from the club big band plays over a dance floor full of couples swinging around and dancing like there's no tomorrow. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol is prevalent as I'm led in to a secluded section of the bar. I'm met by a few guards.

"We gotta pat you down, miss."

I lift my arms wearily.

"Just don't have too much fun."

As he pats my legs and torso down, I notice that the nearby few tables are occupied by a few groups of muscled men in suits with bald heads. One of them catches my eye, then looks away hurriedly.

The guard gestures for me to follow, and I wind through tables of eating patrons until I reach a well-furnished booth. I scooch in, and smile tightly at Tayani. The cold club owner looks like a stern mother. Her graying hair is tied into a delicate bun, and she wears a traditional Earth Kingdom tunic, but colored a rich blue with gold trimming. Her blue eyes are full of life, but they look at me in the same way a raven-eagle looks at a cavehopper.

"Tayani."

"Detective Osada. It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has."

"And why has the honorable detective graced us with her presence?" she asks, sarcastically.

"I'm not here to start trouble, Tayani. I just had a few questions for my case."

"What's in it for me?"

"Yuans. A favor. Whatever suits you best."

Tayani scrutinizes me harshly, then leans back, crossing her arm.

"Fine. Go ahead, ask your questions."

"I'm looking into a man named Vinh. His girl hired me to find him. He came here a couple weeks ago, and hasn't made a peep since."

"So? Do you think I know every person who comes in here?"

Her hostile tone doesn't shake me, as she no doubt intends it to.

"Actually, I do."

Tayani's scowl softens into a smile.

"Smart girl. Yeah, I remember him. The sand boy. Came in here with a few of his friends, and made some trouble."

I ensure that my face shows nothing.

"So is he dead?"

"No."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know."

I notice that her eyes shift away from mine. She's lying, there's no doubt in my mind, but the trick is finding out what she knows without getting myself killed. I pull out a wad of yuans- around 500 of them; what's left from my savings and Jasha's payment.

"Anything I can do to jog your memory?"

Tayani laughs, waving to someone behind me, presumably a waiter.

"Keep it, Osada. I'm not a two-bit street thug you can bribe into compliance."

"So you won't talk?"

Tayani glares at me, and I begin to feel nervous.

"You know, when I heard they kicked you out of the RCPD, I was a little sad, truth be told. You were always someone we could work with. You were a pain in blubber, to be sure, but I liked that about you. But then you went too far, didn't you? Why _did_ you execute that suspect?"

I'm taken aback. A shift has occurred, a subtle one, and I'm on the defensive now. It occurs to me that I'm in a dangerous place.

"So Beifong kicked you off the force, and you went to being a scummy PI. That must be _hard_ for. You used to be a Detective of the Republic City Police Department. Elite. Now, you're a gutter-swimming fire rat. Scrabbling for leftovers from your betters."

She tosses the money towards me, and I become conscious that the muscled men from before are now gathered around the table.

"You should have stayed in the Fire Nation, girl. You may have lived here for a few years, but you're not one of us. Go back to where you belong."

Hands grasped her arms roughly, and she was pulled out of the booth like a bundle of rags.

"You going to kill me?" I ask, hoping that the answer isn't no.

Tayani looks at me with a hard expression.

 _Damn._

"Not today. But if you show your face around here again, I'll freeze a block of ice to your foot and drop you into Yue Bay."

"Fair enough."

She nods at the guards, and I'm dragged away just as the musical number comes to a close, filling the hall with thunderous applause.

* * *

The puddle I'm tossed into is surprisingly deep, and I come up spluttering, covered in mud as the sky-spirits decide to drench me with a torrent of rain. The thugs watch me sternly from the door, and I hop to my feet, flame-daggers roaring from my hands as anger sprints through me with reckless abandon.

The lead guard holds up his hand and several hundred raindrops coagulate into a trio of razor-sharp daggers. I stare at them for a few tense seconds, before easing up, allowing the flames in my hands to die out.

"Not worth it," I mutter.

I turn angrily, shaking my coat free of mud and walking out of the cramped alley and back onto the main street. In the twenty or so minutes I was in there, the line has practically quadrupled in size. I skitter towards the edge of the sidewalk, going from overhang to overhang until I reach a busier street. I find a taxi there- luckily- and I pile in.

The driver looks at me oddly.

"You go for a swim, lady?"

I sigh. I'm soaking wet all over.

"Just about. Get me to the train station, would you?"

I hand over a soaking wet bill, which he takes with an expression of mild distaste, and the taxi sets off, as I shiver and contemplate what just happened in the back seat.

* * *

As I walk back into my apartment, I sigh and shiver in equal measure. My apartment is marginally warmer than outside, and I breath fire through my nose, feeling the warmth slowly start to melt my frozen innards. Or at least, that's how it feels.

I slam the door behind me and hang my coat on the hook outside of my closet door. I'll get it later.

I strip out of my soaking clothes step by step, and I douse myself in a hot shower by the time I reach the shower. I stand there for a few minutes, enjoying the heat as the mud washes off in rivulets. I turn off the water before long, though. The hot water bill is quite a bit these days and I don't have all that much money these days.

I step into my bedroom, and grab a pair of underwear, a shirt, and a sweater, on account of the cold breeze. I put them on, feeling a bit warmer now. I pad over my floor to my crumpled pile of clothes and retrieve my wallet and notebook, opening it. The pages are still soggy, but I grab a pen anyways and find the notes I wrote about Tayani, the thoughts burning in my head with all the intensity of Sozin's Comet.

 _ **Tayani- Cold, pragmatic. Owner of the Darklight nightclub in Chadu Heights.**_

 _ **Knows more about Vinh's disappearance than she lets on.**_

* * *

 **Hey everyone!** **I'm really enjoying working with the noire setting, so I'm going to try to keep this story going for a while, more for my personal enjoyment than anything else. I've also gotten a request to restart my Book 5: War series again, so I'm thinking I'll split my time between the two. As always, feel free to give me any feedback.** **-IGdude117**


	3. Chapter 3: Old Time's Sake

The night after my run-in with Tayani is spent drinking from a flask while I sit in my windowsill, watching the red brake lights on Tiger Shark Street as the rain pours down like the tears of a waterbender.

The morning is spent retching into my toilet with my vomit pouring down like an avalanche.

But I manage to clear my system after an hour or two, and I'm back on my feet- more or less- after a cold shower (not by choice, I missed my heating bill) and a copious amount of strong jasmine tea. I exit my apartment tiredly, shrugging my still-damp coat on as I march down the creaky stairs. As I descend, I hear approaching footsteps from below, and I stop in fear.

Mr. Vaddim, the apartment landlord, sees me as I try to creep up the stairs.

"Miss Osada," he says, crisply.

"Mr. Vaddim. A… Pleasure." I say, wondering if I can talk my way out of this.

"You didn't pay your heating bill. Ironically. I'll need it by the end of the week at the latest, or it'll be a late fee. And your rent is due at the end of the month, which is fast approaching. I trust I won't be getting an I.O.U in the mail again."

"Uhm… yes. No. That won't happen, Mr. Vaddim. I'll get the money."

He turns away, shaking his head as I slip out the front door and into the warmth of the day. I head to the right, intending to get to the nearby Piandao station.

At length, I pass a dirt-streaked boy with a crate full of newspapers.

"Extra, Extra, read all about it! Sadism in the Si Wong! United Republic and Fire Nation peacekeepers attacked by sandbenders! Two yuans, get the full story!"

I brush past the small throng of interested buyers, wondering if the smudges of dirt are for show or an indicator of the boy's financial situation. Knowing this neighborhood, it could be either. Either way, he's dedicated enough to go and seek his money, so I can't fault him for that.

I reach Piandao Station just in time for the 10:00 train to downtown, and I'm slightly disappointed to find that the car is full of passengers. I hold onto a pole, leaning against the wall as the train shunts to life, making my forehead throb in pain again.

"You hear about the Equalists? There was a huge rally in Su Oku. The United Forces garrison at Fort Pohuai had to be dispatched," a passenger near me remarked, his voice hushed as if he were surrounded by Amon's henchmen.

"They're trouble. Nothing good will come from Equalism, if you ask me. Amon and his followers like to say they're fighting for nonbender rights, but I say they're going about it the wrong way. Peaceful protest is the only way; violent rioters gives us all a bad reputation."

I look at the two men, noting that they're both well-dressed; likely businessmen going to Cabbage Corp, Future Industries, Varrick Global Industries, or any of the other swanky highrises in the downtown. The kind of people who would sooner take a dive in Yue Bay than step foot in some of the less developed parts of town.

"Next stop, Wu Gan-Lan Station. Doors open on the left."

I look at the approaching downtown. If the residential neighborhoods of Republic City are full of cramped apartments and miles of poor housing complexes, downtown is the shimmering symbol of progress and innovation in the world. In other words, what the tourism board puts on the pamphlets to get people to move to the city.

The two businessmen have switched topics to the mechanical industry, but my mind lingers on the Equalists, as it has been for a while now. The masked revolutionaries give me the creeps, and not just because they consider my kind to be the scum of the earth. For all their talk of freedom and progress, the whole violent overthrow of the bending authorities give me nothing but bad vibes.

And maybe that's their goal. There are almost as many nonbenders in Republic City as benders, if not more. Stirring up popular support is the quickest way to start a revolution, and I know that if that happens, I'll be the first on the hopefully metaphorical chopping block.

The doors open with a clatter, and I push through the bustling crowd and get out of the station quickly, passing a few clusters of Cabbage Corp workers talking loudly about wage cuts.

I walk into the Silver Spyglass, a popular squeak club and the meeting place for my contact.

Though I don't exactly count myself as a music fan, it's hard not to appreciate the boisterous and lively squeak band playing on the large stage. I wander towards the bar, leaning on the polished counter. After a few seconds, the bartender makes his way over.

"Gimme a glass of Arrak," I say tiredly, sliding a couple of yuans.

The greenish fermented moss alcohol from the Water Tribe slides back over in a crystal-clear glass, and I nod in thanks, making my way to a table on the second floor looking out over the dance floor, which is strangely full of life even on a weekday.

I watch the dancers with a mixture of distaste and annoyance, until a gap-toothed, spiky haired man joins me, dressed in a fancy but rumpled suit.

The man yawns, then smiles.

"Rai. Good to see ya."

I smirk.

"Likewise, _Tired Tepeu_. Looks like you're living up to your nickname."

He shrugs.

"I don't know. Viper and some of the others had us working the streets all last night."

"Lightning Bolt Zolt looking to push out some of the competition?"

Tepeu looks away, and I change topics. I don't want to drive him away too soon- he may be a… well, _friend_ is a strong word, but he's a valuable contact.

"I'm looking for someone. I have some cash in it for you if you help me out."

He leans forward in interest.

"I'm looking for a sandbender. Name of Vinh. Went to the Darklight a week ago, hasn't been seen since. I asked around, but I got tossed into the street for my troubles. You hear anything?"

Tepeu smiles, and I notice his eyes sharpen with recognition. He takes the small envelope of yuans, tucking it into his jacket carefully.

"You got a taste for sandbenders, Osada? We've got a few in the Squirming Sea-Snake, you know."

I roll my eyes.

"You know anything, or should I take my money back?"

He holds his hands up.

"Alright, don't punch me or nothin'. Alright. The Triple Threats had nothin' to do with this sander, but I remember the name well. A few days ago, Red Car Ryu comes in, right? He's one of Old Wen's guys, you know him, grew up in-"

"Look Tep, I love our little talks, but could you get to the point?" I sigh.

"Alright, jeez. Anyways, Ryu came in. He and I are old cellmates, so he starts tellin' me that the Red Monsoons had put a price on some sandbender's head. The same guy you're lookin' for. Anyways, he says the monsoons are out in force for this guy, and that he's given them the slip. Hidin' somewhere in the city."

"So the Red Monsoons don't have him?"

"Not that I know. Ryu told me that they tried to take him at the Darklight, but he busted 're up in arms about this one, Osada. I'd tell you to steer clear, but…"

I nod, scribbling in my notebook.

"Gotta pay my bills same as you. Any word on where he is now?"

Tepeu crosses his arms, thinking.

"Well, now that ya mention it… I think Ryu mentioned some guy named Hwan. Information broker, operating out of Bouldertown. If I remember this right, he seemed to think Hwan had an inkling about where your sander is. He also said he hopes the Monsoons never find this guy. Somethin' about how embarassing it is the waterbenders couldn't find some sap."

"Any idea where in Bouldertown?"

He shakes his head.

"What do ya think I am, a professor or somethin'? This happened a few days ago, Rai. I don't remember everythin' he told me. I don't even know if I'm rememberin' that right. That's all I know."

I lean back, nodding.

"That'll have to do. Thanks, Tep. I appreciate it."

He rubs the back of his head.

"Yeah, well. Maybe this'll make us even?" he says, hopefully.

I get up, downing the rest of the bitter Arrak.

"Not even close. Take care, Tep," I laugh.

He scowls as I leave, and I jot down the information as I weave my way through the busy squeak hall. As far as leads go, it's not much, but it's enough.

I walk out, and turn my collar up as chilly air washes over me. I shiver, then light up a Blue Spirit cigarette as I walk towards the station, wondering where in Bouldertown this Hwan is.

* * *

I begin with the library. My reasoning is simple, in a sort of complexly sophisticated way. Everyone likes the library. At the very least, the libraries hold detailed records of borrowers, so they can break their kneecaps if they don't return their books or something.

I walk into the Gan Jin Public Library cautiously; the last time I had come into a library for research, I had been jumped by a trio of Triple Threat gangsters looking to cash in the very lucrative price on my pretty little head.

I walk in, however, and am accosted by little more than a stream of schoolchildren with piles of books in their arms, being herded by a very tired-looking teacher. I walk up to the main circulation desk and regard the older gentleman sitting behind it inquisitively.

"May I help you with something today, ma'am?"

I glance around, and slip him 50 yuans.

"I need a look at your records."

The man looks startled; taken aback.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am, but the records are off-limits to the public, and…"

I frown. I could squeeze this guy a little, but the last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself. So I settle for throwing more money at the problem, hoping that my wages will be more than enough to cover the bribes.

I slip another twenty yuans, and he sighs.

"I… Hmm. Can I at least ask why you need to access the records?"

"I'm a private investigator. Let's leave it at that."

He pauses, then glances at a young intern. I follow him through a side corridor, before reaching a locked door. He glances around, unlocks it, and ushers me inside.

"Just be quick about it, would you? I could get into a lot of trouble."

I look at him sarcastically.

" _I'm sure_. I need the address of a man named Hwan. Lives around here. Something of an academic."

The librarian heaves another sigh- probably the fifth one so far- and trails his finger along the labels on the row of tall cabinets, opening one and flipping through the cards. At length, he pulls a card out, and squints through his thick glasses before handing it back.

-~=={[]}==~-

GAN JIN PUBLIC LIBRARY

3302 GUANTING BOULEVARD

REPUBLIC CITY, UNITED REPUBLIC OF NATIONS

RECORD OF LENDING

NAME: Hwan

ADDRESS: 23E Anchor Avenue, Bouldertown Borough

BOOKS BORROWED:

 _From Yu Dao to Republic City: A History of the Formation of the United Republic,_ by Yin Qing {ON TIME}

 _Guardians of the Forest: An Analytical Approach to Traditional Spirituality,_ by Sangey the Earnest {ON TIME}

 _Warrior Monk: An Academic History of Avatar Aang and the Hundred Years' War,_ by Pu-On Tim {ON TIME}

-~=={[]}==~-

I scribble the address and the books in my journal, handing it back to the nervous-looking book jockey. Most of the information on the card is seemingly unrelated (aside from the address), but if my experience has taught me anything, it's that every detail in a case may come in handy.

"Thanks. I'll get out of your hair."

* * *

When the train lets me off, I am glad that the location is relatively close to the station. The hand-drawn map I strongarmed out of a passerby indicates that the place is very close, and it takes no more than five minutes to reach it.

I pause by the mailboxes of the tall tenement building, looking for his mail box. It's not hard to find; the mail is practically bursting out of the brass slot.

 _Somebody hasn't been home for a while,_ I think to myself, as I start climbing.

I reach the apartment quickly, and withdraw the hairpin from my hair, letting my mid-length hair fall around my shoulders while withdrawing a thin file from my pocket. As I kneel to break in, the door creaks open, and I hear voices.

I freeze, and creep in.

The entrance hallway is empty and dark, and I pad down it as softly as I can, listening for any sound.

The first indication I get of being attacked is a large section of the brick wall detaching itself and slamming me into the floor, crushing against my shoulder painfully.

" _She's over here!"_ my assailant bellows.

Flames spring from my hands, and I throw them blindly towards the man's voice until I'm rewarded with a pained cry and the wall crumbling to chunks around me. I look up just in time to see two more thugs rounding the corner as my first attacker picks himself up

I hop to my feet swiftly, sending a spinning wave of heat towards the end of the hallway with a spin-kick, and I slam into the first attacker, punching him hard in the stomach. He crumples to the ground again, and I transfer my momentum into a large fireball that crashes into one of the thug's' chest, flinging him backwards and splintering the window, a faint cry echoing through the now-drafty apartment as he falls.

"Bitch!" spits the last standing thug, who rips a chunk of wall and begins shooting lethal slivers of rock towards me.

I grunt with effort, and conjure dual shields of flame that incinerate the rock into ash as they blow into me harmlessly. As I maintain the barrier, however, a chunk of rock arcs around, and I see it out of the corner of my eye too late. The large chunk collides with arm painfully, and I scream in pain as red-hot agony shoots through my arm.

Then, holding the last of the shield up, I desperately punch fireballs towards the last thug, and he is thrown against a dresser, slumping to the floor as his jacket smokes slightly.

I stop, breathing heavily, then steady my breath. The dozen or so small fires that have sprung up around the place won't be good for my incognito presence, and I calm them, trying my best to still my thumping heart. I clutch my arm, cursing and gasping with the pain, and I can tell by the way it looks that it's broken.

My first attacker, behind me, stirs with a groan, and I cross over to him, grasping his collar roughly with my good hand. The man is almost from a cheesy crime novel; square-jawed, stubbled, bald, and muscled. The paragon of thugs.

As I clutch his collar, his clothes begin to smoke, and he looks at me in fear.

"Who are you?! Where is Hwan? Talk."

The man looks at me in abject fear, an expression that gives me more pleasure than I'd care to admit.

"L-Look, I-I don't know, alright? W-We was hired to sack this guy's house, alright? I don't know where h-he's at, alright?"

I slam him against the wall, and he grunts in pain, shooting me a murderous look. I let go of his collar for a moment, and draw his sleeve up, revealing the ornate earth disc sigil of the Terra Triad.

"What does the Terra Triad want with Hwan?" I ask, as menacingly as I can manage through the blinding pain.

"I-I-I don't know, lady, alright? Zexi just told us to destroy any records he had. They shoulda sent a firebender. I swear on my ancestors, that's all I know."

I stare at him angrily for a moment, then throw him down, staggering into the apartment. The place is utterly destroyed- even discounting the damage from our recent skirmish. Bookshelves, cabinets, and any sort of furniture is all overturned. A metal bucket sits in the center, and only ashes remain- no doubt where the Terra Triad gangsters burned any evidence.

Frustration boils over, and I roar in anger, storming out of the apartment and keeping the urge to scream in pain again down as my arm stings with excruciating agony. As I stumble down the stairs, I hear cars screeching to a halt right outside, and I sprint for the back door, deciding not to risk running into a gang of Terra Triad reinforcements.

I push out of the back door, into an isolated alley, and run with all of my might, not caring where I end up, as long as it's not here.

* * *

 **So for the few people who may be interested, 'squeak' isn't a canon term, but rather a sort of analogue for jazz I made up for this story to describe the Asian- New Orleans style jazz that's featured in Korra. Just in case anyone is interested.**

 **Anyways, feel free to leave feedback in your reviews! I know this story isn't getting a whole lot of traction, but I'm really enjoying trying this style of writing out, so I'll keep on going on this and War as long as I can.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **IGdude117**


	4. Chapter 4: A Moment of Calm

**Trigger Warning: This chapter includes some rather grim references to drug use and human trafficking.**

* * *

There's something intrinsically alluring about watching weather. Whether it's sitting inside with a warm cup of tea, watching the rain pour down, or sitting by a fireplace as snowflakes float down, it's just satisfying.

Of course, being out in said weather is an entirely different feeling.

It's late in the autumn, and for Republic City, that means snow. As I stumble through the streets blindly, my head spinning from the pain, it begins to fall as a fine powder, gradually building in intensity.

Somehow- don't ask me how- I end up stumbling into the Stinging Shirshu, one of my favorite bars a few dozen blocks away from my apartment. The bar is empty, discarded bottles and plates scattered around, and its lone occupant looks up in shock as I push my way through the front door, collapsing on the floor from exhaustion.

He drops his glass and rushes over, kneeling by me.

"Spirits, Rai. Are you alright?"

"What… do… you… think?" I struggle to say, managing a weak smile before hissing in pain as my arm hits the floor.

"Yeah, great time to be a smartass. Spirits… what did you get yourself into this time?"

"Arm…" I murmur.

He looks at me with concern, then moves his arms in a flowing motion, sending a snake-like stream of undulating water towards me. The cool liquid envelops my broken arm, and his hands lay themselves on me gently, drawing another hiss of pain.

Then, however, it subsides. I register a bright blue glow, and warmth envelops my arm, and the pain recedes, like a wave flowing back into the ocean from whence it came.

My eyes drift closed.

* * *

I open my eyes groggily, and look up into a ceiling that I don't recognize. For a moment I am confused; I have no idea where I am, what I was doing, how I got here…

...then I remember. I check my arm, and see a purplish bruise, but upon gingerly moving it, I realize it's not broken anymore.

I swing my legs over the bed and stand. I'm in a small bedroom with a single cot and a small writing desk. On the wall is a blueish flag with the symbol of the Water Tribe on it. Beside it is a poster for the South Pole Snow Leopards.

I look around, and grab my coat from a coat hook nearby and exit the bedroom, which leads into a small hallway with a bathroom and a staircase leading downwards. I walk down and enter the bar.

It's empty besides a drunk-looking sailor on the far end of the bar. I sit on one of the stools cautiously, blinking as bright sunlight streams in the clouded windows.

"You're up," says a voice.

I turn, and smile slightly as my healer passes me, placing a bowl of sea soup in front of me.

"Thanks, Tak. I… uh, well, I appreciate the help last night."

The warm bartender nods easily, grasping a large bottle and polishing its exterior with a cloth.

"So… investigation gone wrong, then?"

I avert my gaze, then nod slowly.

"Yeah."

There's a loaded silence. Taktuq and I have known each since I arrived here. He and I actually met on the boat over; he had left the Southern Water Tribe to find a new life in Republic City, and I had fled my past in the Fire Nation to find my new life.

"You're too reckless, Rai. You can't keep going on like this."

I shoot him a hard expression.

"What else should I do? Work at a plant? Go back home? That's not an option for me."

He puts down the glass.

"I've known you for seven years, Rai. You know what I mean. You can't keep staggering in here with wounds. You're not in the military anymore. You're a private detective."

"You know what it's like out there? I can't exactly make a living exposing affairs and snapping pictures of cheating spouses. I got offered a lot of money to do this job. I'm not turning back now. Don't tell me what to do."

He shakes his head.

"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm your friend. I'm asking if there's any way I can see you outside of you limping in with a grievous wound. It's too much."

I avert my gaze, uncomfortable. There's an awkward silence, and he looks away, sighing.

"Tell me about this case. Maybe I can bring a different viewpoint. Like last time."

I withdraw my notebook again, smiling.

"Last time was small dumplings next to this case."

He shrugs again nonchalantly, polishing another glass.

"Try me, Osada. Waterbenders are adaptable."

I chuckle.

"Alright. So about a week ago now, I was contacted by a woman. Name of Jasha."

He looks at me knowingly.

"'Contacted'? Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Shut up. Anyways, she's a sandbender. Wants me to find her boyfriend, sandbender by the name of Vinh. Went missing after visiting the Darklight two weeks ago."

"Good joint. Bad Arrak, though."

I roll my eyes.

"Alcohol quality notwithstanding, I talked to Tayani. She avoided my questions, but she and the Red Monsoons are involved somehow. I spoke to my contact in the Triple Threats, and he led me to Hwan, an information broker in Bouldertown. I went to his house, but ran into some Terra Triad goons who claimed that there was a contract out on this poor bastard's head. And now I'm back where I started; I need to find someone, who may be able to find someone."

He shakes his head again, disapprovingly.

"Rai, if you get mixed up in this Triad crap, it's going to sting you. Nothing good comes of it; they play by their own rules, and not even the Avatar could save you if they had a mind to take you down."

I look up from my notebook, angrily.

"And I told you I wasn't gonna drop this that easily. I was hired to do a job, and I'm sure as hell going to do it. I'm not running from this."

"You get stubborn with the weirdest things, Rai. It's not healthy. There are people… people who care about you. You might not think it, but what you do affects other people. Not just you."

"I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have brought you into this."

I turn to leave.

"Rai, stop. Just… for a moment. If you want to follow this to its grisly end, I won't stop you. But… just be careful, alright? Something about this doesn't add up. This Jasha lady sounds like a player. Don't trust her. If not for yourself, then do it for me. Please."

I pause, looking at him earnestly.

"I don't trust anyone, Tak. You know that."

With that, I push my way out of the warm bar and back into the cold chaos of Republic City.

* * *

 _The squad car pulls up smoothly and quietly, the only sounds being the downpour smothering everything in a blanket of cold water._

" _Nice night for it," mutters Kila._

 _I chuckle, then nod towards the door. We enter quietly, creaking up the stairs and pausing by the door._

" _Apartment 5. This is it."_

" _Ready, partner?" Kila asks._

 _I ignite a flame in the palm of my hand, and she uncaps a waterskin on her belt._

" _Let's do it."_

 _With a roar, I channel a flame through my leg, encasing my foot in fire as I kick the door down. We rush in, and I yell loudly:_

" _RCPD- get your hands up!"_

 _The lone man in the middle of the room scrambles to his feet, bending a small earth disc out of the wall towards us._

 _Kila slices it in half with a water-whip, and envelops him in the tendril. He grunts and yells as I run over, withdrawing a pair of handcuffs from my pocket, fixing them tight on his wrists._

" _Screw you, cops, I ain't sayin' nothin'. You got no right- no right, I tell ya, to be here. Go to hell."_

 _I roll my eyes._

" _You're Yaza?"_

 _He averts his gaze from mine._

" _So what if I am? It ain't your business, lady."_

" _The Republic City National court begs to differ. This-" I say, withdrawing the crumpled piece of paper out of my other pocket, "is a warrant for your arrest."_

 _Kila withdraws the water back into her pouch, straightening her tan coat._

" _You're under arrest for the production,trafficking and sale of narcotics and conspiracy to commit murder. You don't have to say anything, but anything you do say can and will be entered into evidence for your trial."_

 _He grumbles and curses, and I stand up, taking in my surroundings. The room is dingy and grimy. Pipes, cigarette paper, and bottles of empty booze lay discarded around the room. A heavy layer of smog lingers, and I cross over to the table, picking up a yellowed roll of a sickly-sweet smelling herb._

 _Kila looks at it._

" _Dream Poppy," I say grimly, dropping it to the floor and grinding it into the floorboards with the tip of my shoe._

" _I'm going to clear the rest of the apartment. You good?"_

 _Kila nods, pushing Yaza to the floor. She turns over his forearm and looks at me pointedly._

" _I'm good, but look at this; Terra Triad. There's no doubt about it."_

 _I nod, and walk out of the living room, passing the small, stained kitchen and bathroom, before reaching a closed door. I tense automatically, listening for any noise. Aside from a whiff of something foul, I hear nothing._

 _When I open the door, I am confronted by the most horrifying scene I've ever witnessed in my life._

 _The room is dark; the windows have been blacked out, covered with heavy curtains. In the far corner of the room is a single bed, with a single bucket. A series of horizontal bars are bolted to the wall, but it's the unmoving figures chained to the bars that draws my attention. Then, t_ _he stench reaches my nose, crawling in like a vile insect, and I lurch away, vomiting in the hallway. I retch, and Kila rounds the corner in concern._

" _Rai? What's wrong?"_

 _I look at her, my eyes watering with both the smell and the pure revulsion. She glances in the room, and stares at it blankly. Shakily, I withdraw a handkerchief from my pocket and enter again, crying freely now._

 _The girls are teenagers. They're dead- that much is obvious from the insects in the room. But the needle-marks, the stained teeth, the reddened eyes, and the smell in the room tells me they died of overdoses._

 _I stagger out again, and then feel the rage building in my stomach. I storm back towards the living room, and pick Yaza up by his collar, slamming him against the wall._

" _You… you bastard. What did you do?!" I snarl._

 _He smirks._

" _Hey, the shipment wouldn't stop making noise. A guy's gotta make money somehow. It's just business, copper."_

 _Fury builds, then explodes in my chest. My vision flashes red, and I slam his head against the wall repeatedly, screaming in anger and hatred as I push his head against the wall again and again. It takes several minutes before I feel Kila grabbing me and pulling me away, yelling at me to stop._

 _Later, when Chief Beifong arrives, she looks at me, then at what's left of Yaza with a grim look. The patrol officers gag at the sight, and whisper to each other. Beifong takes me outside of the apartment._

" _Chief," I say, tiredly, not quite knowing what to say._

" _Detective Osada. I'm going to need your badge. You're done."_

 _I simply nod. I expected it._

 _The next weeks are difficult. The sights I saw in the room haunt my days and nights. The investigation into the incident draw little attention. After all, this is Republic City. A rogue, out-of-control cop is hardly a novel archetype in the city of dreams._

 _When I finally am fired, I take it stoically. I walk out with my few belongings, hopeless and empty. I see Kila, try to think of something to say, but she avoids my gaze. She's afraid of me. Of what I did. So I disappear._

 _There are those who sympathize. The forensics team confirmed that the twelve girls in the room had gone missing from various cities and towns all over the United Republic. And all twelve died of internal organ failure after having their systems flooded with Dream Poppy. They say that Yaza was a bastard. That he deserved it._

 _But he was suspect, and I was a cop. And there are just some lines you can't cross. So I run. Again._

* * *

I lift my head groggily, looking around in confusion. I'm in my apartment, on my desk, surrounded by notes and more than a few receipts for the many bottles of booze lining my bookshelf. I hold my head, glancing at the small clock hanging on my wall. 2:30 in the morning. I take a sip of the strong Kasai fire whiskey shimmering in a glass on my desktop, wincing as it burns a path down my throat.

The memories of my last case with the Republic City Police Department are neither welcome nor pleasant. It's one of the many reasons my weakness for alcohol is so pronounced. I know it's bad as hell for me, but given the things I've seen... well. Some evils are necessary.

I look down at my notebook, yawning.

 _Where are you?_ I ask myself, or Vinh, perhaps.

What do I know? The question is harder than it seems. Every time I seem to get a handle on this case, it swerves away hard, and I'm back at the beginning, like a Pai Sho game that keeps on being shattered by an eager child each time a winning play is meticulously planned.

My quarry is elusive; Vinh. Immigrant from the sandbender tribes of the Si Wong Desert- no doubt a refugee from the brutal civil war there. So Vinh comes to the city of dreams with his girlfriend, Jasha. And evidently, he makes some less than savory friends, goes to Darklight, then drops off the map.

Tayani, owner of the Darklight, was little help, but she revealed that she at least had some knowledge of the kid and his disappearance. Enough that she had her goons throw me out and make some pretty hurtful threats.

 _The first dead end,_ I think sourly.

Tired Tepeu gave me my next breadcrumb. An information broker named Hwan, hunted by the Terra Triad, who knows Hwan, who recently managed to get the Monsoons to put a price on his head, confirming some sort of feud with the Monsoons.

So what do I find when I went to find Hwan? Terra Triad thugs, burning evidence and covering up their tracks. So we had ourselves a nice brawl, they broke my arm, and I ran, leaving me here. No closer to finding Vinh, and that paycheck that is looking more and more lucrative by the minute.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. I don't have the momentum I need to finish this. I could go to Tep again, but as slimy as the man is, I don't want him to get caught by his superiors.

Then, a thought occurs to me. It's a desperate one, but it's also one I hadn't thought of previously, which is usually a moderately encouraging thought. I have no leads, so why not go back to the source? Besides, I've had the feeling that something's been off about this case since the beginning. Probably best to chase that feeling and see if it yields any results.

Not like I have any other choices now. I either see this thing through, or I cut and run like I always have.

And despite what I've gone through the last few days, for the first time I know in my heart that if I choose the latter, I'll never recover.

* * *

 **The plot thickens.**

 **Sorry for the flurry of title changes. I've never been really satisfied with 'Tiger-Shark Alley' as a title, so I figured settling with the slightly more used but classic "Noire" title works. L.A. Noire is one of my favorite games, so I figured I'd pay homage to it with the title.**

 **As usual, any feedback or comments are welcome.**

 **IGdude117**


	5. Chapter 5: Back to Basics

Republic City is a city of immigrants. But that doesn't mean they're treated better here than anywhere else.

I step off the train and am greeted by the overpowering stench of street food (mostly rotting) and the smell of 600,000 people living in the squat, ramshackle tenements and shacks that make up Bouldertown District's slums.

Called "Little Ba Sing Se" by its residents, it's about as far away from the swanky fashion mall as you can get. The rest of the city is nothing pretty, but Little Ba Sing Se is a different beast entirely.

As I disembark, I am immediately barraged by a veritable horde of urchins and sellers.

"10 yuans for a top condition dagger, ma'am. Get it right here."

"You want booze? I got booze? 15 yuans per bottle."

"Hey, I know a girl who can get you premium goods. Slip me 50, and we'll talk."

"Hey lady, I can make you feel-"

I shoulder through the throng and exit the station, slipping into the stream of pedestrians unnoticed. A raspy breeze slips through the crowd; I gather my coat closer, and take a sip of the fire whiskey in my flask, dropping it back into my interior pocket with a grimace.

I walk for a while, searching the faded and smudged street signs for my destination and contact.

If the part of Bouldertown where Hwan lived was the good part of town, this is the sky bison's ass of the district. Here, buildings are practically stacked on top of each other, with clotheslines and powerlines stretching across the buildings like some sort of spiderweb. A layer of trash lies on the street, and the smell is certainly overpowering enough.

I sight a group of children playing and recognize one of them as my contact; I break from the crowd and approach. The boy is damn young- maybe 11 at most- but has already built a reputation. I met him years ago, during my time with the department, when he had been a troublesome young street kid with a penchant for gathering intelligence for the Triads.

"Skoochy," I say. "You got what I need?"

The boy turns, smirking.

"Depends. You got what I need?"

I sigh, and pass over the bill.

"You're a real con artist, you know that?"

He shrugs lightly, pocketing the bill so fast that I barely see it.

"I know my strengths. Jasha is in that apartment building right there; room 14," he says, pointing to an angular, tannish building.

"Golden Palaces. The local kids just call it Sandyland. That's where all the sandslingers live after they get off the boat."

I nod, brushing the racial epithet aside.

"Thanks, Skoochy. Stay out of trouble."

He laughs.

"Well, you ain't a cop, so not like I have to listen to you, do I?"

I scoff as he runs off, and cross the street, narrowly avoiding being run over by a couple of Satomobiles. I walk over, and look up at the building. It's tall- probably six or seven stories. I glance at several sleeping hobos on the stairs, and enter.

The building has a dark brown color scheme that permeates its walls and floors, and is practically bursting with human life. Refuse and trash litters the halls, along with ragged squatters and a few unmoving forms that give me that queasy feeling in my diaphragm.

I glance again at the scribbled inscriptions on the wall, and see the number "14" next to a cleaner door that differs from the rest of the building's aesthetic. I knock, wondering if I'll get attacked again.

" _I'm coming!"_

The door opens after a few seconds, and Jasha's face registers a brief moment of shock.

"Detective Osada… I wasn't… expecting you."

I smile slightly. Jasha is a little more disheveled than before- her braided hair hangs loose around her shoulders, but she's still the picture of grace I remember.

"That was the point. Just coming by to… let's say 'check in', for lack of a better term."

She gives me a look, then sighs in resignation.

"Then let's do this somewhere else. There's a park nearby. Let's take a walk."

I hesitate, but I figure there's no harm in acquiescing to her request. I nod once, and she gestures me in, grabbing some neatly folded clothes and slipping into the bathroom.

The apartment itself is a contradiction. The walls are lined with faded, crinkling wallpaper and the appliances seem to be in bad shape, yet the furnishings, furniture, and feel of the place is decidedly… well, _downtown_ in its neatness. Clothes are folded almost perfectly, the tables are clean and well-organized, and the kitchen is lacking the pile of dirty dishes that mine has.

I look around, glancing back to the bathroom. The shower runs, and I notice that the door is open enough to catch a glimpse of the interior, but I avert my eyes quickly. Probably best if I keep things professional for the time being.

I walk over to a clean writing desk, and, after glancing back one more time, slide open the drawer. Inside is a stack of writing paper, a pamphlet for a museum, and a ticket. I pick it up cautiously. It's a train ticket from Omashu to Republic City. It's wrinkled slightly, and age has faded it somewhat, but when I look at the dates, I notice something interesting.

The ticket is marked for spring, year 164- five years ago. My gut tells me that something's wrong, but I can't remember at the moment.

The door to the bathroom opens, and I stuff the ticket back in the drawer, turning around as I slide it back into the desk. Jasha wears a off-green dress, and she buckles a tan coat over her, smiling warmly. I join her, and as we walk down the stairs, she loops her arm through mine.

My heart's beating a bit faster now, but the wave of cold air kind of lessens my sweatiness, and we walk down the busy street until we reach the park. It's not as large as Republic City Park, but it's pretty close. The Tui river is visible, and Kuei Bridge sparkles with headlights in the distance, past a grove of trees, and a greenish statue of the old Earth King's pet bear.

It's emptier here, but that works to our favor, I suppose.

"So, Detective… what news do you have?"

"You can just call me Rai. I'm not really a detective anymore."

She chuckles softly, her breath clouding in the chilly air.

"Then you can call me Jasha."

We walk a few more steps.

"Your boyfriend is mixed up in something bad. I visited the Darklight and talked to an old… acquaintance. She didn't cooperate much, but she told me enough to know that the Triads have something to do with his disappearance."

Her silence is telling.

"A contact of mine told me that the Red Monsoons put a price on your boyfriend's head, and that he supposedly went to ground with the help of man named Hwan, who went to ground."

"Hwan…" she whispers.

"I went to his apartment, but only found Terra Triad thugs burning evidence. I barely escaped. And now I'm back at the beginning. I was hoping you'd be able to shed some light on this."

Jasha sighs, wiping her eye with a gloved hand.

"I always knew that Vinh had… I don't know. When we escaped from the Si Wong, part of me hoped that we could leave _all_ of that behind. Two years later, and we're still…"

She stumbles, and I catch her.

"I'm sorry, de- Rai. It's been… difficult. Vinh and I had gotten farther apart before he disappeared, but now… I miss him, Rai. I just want to know one way or another."

"I understand. But I need to know if you know _anything_ about why he might have annoyed the Triads."

She hesitates again, then shakes her head, as if to reassure herself.

"Before we left… Vinh and I lived in a city called Shen. In the same province as the Misty Palms Oasis. Shen was no better than a ghetto for anyone in the Xu Tribe. All the rejects that the rest of the sandbenders wanted no part of. We were very involved with the… well, with the Red Crawler Triad. We escaped that life as soon as we could, but…" she said, trailing off.

"...once you're a part of that life, they'll never let you go." I finished.

She looks at me with a silent understanding, and we remain silent, continuing our stroll.

"When did _you_ come here?" she asks, after a few more chilly silences.

I look at her questioningly.

"How do you know I'm an immigrant?"

She shrugs delicately.

"Call it an educated guess. You don't talk like you grew up here. You have a realistic Republic City dialect, but underneath it I can hear hints of education, and the barest indication of a Fire Nation accent. Am I wrong?"

I sigh. My breath steams in the air like the smoke from a simmering fire.

"No. I was born in… Fire Fountain City. I grew up wealthy. Father was a businessman. Mom wasn't. I…"

I hesitate. I haven't talked about my past in a long time; why I'm doing it now, I don't rightly know.

"Well. I didn't want that life. After I left the military, and after mom died and my father lost his mind… I left the Fire Nation. Came here. Looked for bigger and better things. Found much of the same."

Jasha holds me closer, and gives me a demure look.

"Well… whatever you began as… I like the woman you've become. You've defeated your demons. You've come out stronger. And you've helped me a far sight better than anyone else has."

Our faces are close now, and I become consciously aware of how much I'm sweating, even in the night cold.

"I don't k-know about _that_ , but…"

She cuts me off with a warm kiss, and she hugs me closer, her lips pressing against mine. When she breaks away, my mouth is a little agape, and I'm a little lost for words.

"Let's go back to my apartment. I'm sure you'd be willing to help me out a little more."

* * *

When Jasha sneaks out of the large, lavishly furnished bed, I make no movement. She spends a few seconds in the bathroom, and then stealthily sneaks out, wearing a darker coat and a scarf. I don't move until the door clicks closed.

I spring into action, pulling my clothes on as quickly as I can manage before opening the window and scrambling out onto the roof, ignoring the aching in my muscles. I catch sight of her exiting the building, and I try not to fall to my death as I find the fire escape, climbing down it as fast as I can manage.

She's good; I'll give her that, but I think she relied on my sex drive overpowering my deductive reasoning.

What 'grieving widow-to-be' sleeps with someone before she knows what happened to her boyfriend? That was enough to trigger my interest, and this latest stealthy exit from her own apartment is suspicious, to say the least.

I shiver as I hit pavement, blending into the crowd while keeping my eye on her faded mossy-green coat.

As far as sting operations go, this was far from the worst way to do it, but my interest is piqued now. Jasha isn't being entirely honest with me, and my gut tells me that this is a thread I'll want to pull on.

After walking a few blocks, Jasha turns into an alley. When I make my way to the mouth of the alley, I peek around the corner, barely catching sight of her turning the corner at the end. I speedily walk towards the other side, and peek around again.

A large abandoned building lies ahead, and a bouncer of some sort stands guard outside. Jasha speaks a few words to him, then swiftly enters. I curse; there's no way of knowing what she said to the man. I scan the building for entry points, and my eyes settle on a rusting access ladder on the far side.

Shaking my head slightly, I cross the space between the apartment building I'm pressed against and the abandoned building, slipping between shadows and escaping the notice of the guard. I begin climbing, and remember that I had forgotten to bring my gloves as the ice-cold metal burns my palms.

I grimace, and continue to climb until I reach a window.

A faint light emanates from it, and I hear a small crowd chattering. I wrap my arm around the bar of the ladder so that my elbow is holding me up, and I peek in the dirty window.

The building seems to be an abandoned factory of some sort, and I can see a large crowd of about 100 people gathered together. I catch sight of a tan scarf that might be Jasha, but it's hard to tell from outside.

The crowd suddenly stops talking, and I'm afraid for a moment that I've been discovered. However, I simply see a man in a gray military uniform with green goggles and some sort of metal contraption on his back enter the center of the crowd.

" _Brothers and sisters. Thank you for coming,"_ he says, barely audible even through the cracked window.

" _We have all been fighting for a long time to achieve the equality that our leader has for so long dreamed of. From the beginning, however, we have stayed in the shadows, for fear that our bending tyrants would squash our righteous movement before it had time to begin."_

Angry murmurs emanate from the crowd. My hand begins to throb from the cold.

" _I'm here to tell you that the time is fast approaching where we will rise up and take our world back from those that would see us become slaves. Our leader, Amon, has foreseen that the day will soon arrive when we will be able to seize that which is rightfully ours. So have patience, brothers and sisters. Continue your training, and be ready for the day when we will all be as we should be; Equal!"_

The crowd cheers, and this time it's not the weather that sends a chill down my spine.

* * *

 **Hey all!**

 **Just wanted to thank you guys for the support. I'm not one for begging for likes, but as I think a lot of you know, it's always good to know that people are responding well to your story.**

 **As always, thanks for reading, and I welcome any feedback you may have!**

 **-IGdude117**


	6. Chapter 6: Downtown Booking

The street car lurches over a pothole, but despite the annoyed grunts of the other passengers, I barely notice. I have more important things on my mind.

Of course, discovering that one's client is a supporter of a virulently anti-bender revolutionary group isn't exactly normal. A discovery of that magnitude is usually followed by a visit to the police. Which, funnily enough, is where I'm going right now.

The street car drifts around a corner, and the blocky, dark gray Headquarters Building comes into view.

"Republic City Police HQ! Next stop is the Downtown Train Station!"

I push off of the crowded streetcar, and pause for a moment, staring at the building. For the last two years, I've generally avoided this place like the purple plague. Too many memories. Too many people who know me.

As if to illustrate my point, as I enter, I recognize the desk sergeant, a burly moustached man named Yangtso. He grins as I enter.

"Rai Osada. As I live and breathe. What are you doing here?"

I walk up with a weak smile.

"I need to speak to Detective Kila. Personal matter."

Yangtso nods.

"It's Captain Kila, now; she's heading up the Special Investigations Division. I'll send a message."

He hands a quickly-scribbled note to a runner, who promptly sprints away. I linger, awkwardly, avoiding the questing eyes of sullen prostitutes, druggies, and petty thieves waiting for processing in the large lobby area.

"How's Private Investigation treating you?" Yangtso asks, suddenly, looking up from a pile of paperwork and the near-constant ringing of telephones.

I shrug, withdrawing a Blue Spirit from my coat and lighting it in my palm.

"It's alright. People always need someone to take photos of someone else's business."

Yangtso tuts like a worried mother.

"That's a pretty big gray area, Detective. You know-"

"-It's not detective. Not anymore," I say grimly, cutting him off.

The door behind the barred-off reception area opens, and a woman emerges. She's short; shorter than me, anyways, with darker skin, short cut dark brown hair, and tired gray eyes that tell a tale of a life lived patrolling the streets of one of the world's most dangerous cities.

She looks more tired now, though, and I notice that she still has a betrothal necklace; a blue cloth band around her neck that she received from her fiance when she was seventeen. Of course, an archaic arranged marriage didn't really sit well with her, and she ran away to Republic City when she was eighteen.

I remember asking her once when we were going over evidence why she still wore it.

 _"It's a bad memory, but it's still a memory. A reminder of the home I left behind. Plus, it keeps the dumb guys away,"_ she had said, with a smirk.

Maybe that was why we got along so well; I ran from my past the same way she did. Two runaways in a screwed up, dingy city.

Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she unlocks the access door, ushering me inside. Surprisingly, she hugs me, and I reluctantly return the gesture.

"Spirits, it's good to see you, Rai. Where have you been? _How_ have you been?"

I smile grimly.

"About as good as I expected. I need your help, Kila."

Her smile fades, recognizing my expression, and she nods to the staircase. Wordlessly, I follow her up the stairs, and we reach her office after winding through a long room with five or six desks, one of which had a sleeping man slumped over a pile of paperwork.

"Zacar!" she shouts, lobbing a crumpled up piece of paper at the man's head.

The man stirs, sitting up sleepily.

"Wuh?"

"I'd better see a progress update on the Moya case _by_ 5:00, or I'll have you and Paza transferred to Hadai City by _tomorrow_."

The man scrambles in his desk, grasping a pen and feverishly writing.

"Yes, ma'am, Captain ma'am!"

Kila flashes me a mischievous grin, and I follow her into the office, closing the door. She gestures to a seat in front of her desk, grabbing a pile of folders and slapping them back onto her desk, pouring a glass of milky Soju.

She looks at me meaningfully, and I nod, downing the first sips of the rice wine much too quickly.

"So… what do you need, Rai?" she asks, settling behind her desk and shrugging off her coat.

"Intel. It's just as well you're heading Special Investigations; I need to know about the Equalists."

She takes a sip of her wine, looking at me quizzically.

"Why do you need to know?"

"It's for a case."

She frowns.

"Rai, if you're mixed up with the Equalists… Spirits, that's too risky, even for you. They're dangerous. I'd advise you just walk away."

"Just humor me."

She sighs dejectedly.

"Not like you ever listened to me anyways. What do you need to know about them?"

"Anything. I'm looking for a connection between them and the Triads."

Or trying to discern whether Jasha's penchant for hanging out in warehouses with revolutionaries is connected to her boyfriend's missing status and sizable bounty.

"Well… as you probably know, the Equalists believe that benders oppress and persecute nonbenders, and think that nonbenders ought to rise up in open revolt and overthrow the bending governments and begin a new world order."

She glances at a folder on her desk, pulling out a piece of paper with her index finger.

"This Amon guy claims to be a nonbending survivor of a farming family that was wiped out by a firebending criminal. He's the leader of the Equalists, but the problem is we've never actually sighted him outside of some isolated sightings by patrol troopers in the countryside."

I blow out a cloud of smoke tiredly.

"Anyways. He and the Equalists are radical revolutionaries, nothing more. At least that's what the Council says. The Chief thinks that he'll make a move soon, though; that he's aiming to take Republic City."

"What do you think?"

She sighs again, downing the Soju.

"I think I have enough problems to deal with. I don't want to waste my time thinking about what _might_ happen. That said, the Chief is usually right about these things."

"And the Triads?"

"Right. Well, obviously, the Triads are almost all benders, so the Triad Investigations Unit thinks they see Equalists as a threat. We see reports of the Triads targeting nonbenders and Equalist sympathizers all the time. Like that's helping tensions any."

I pause for a moment, waiting for her to say more, but she looks at me oddly instead.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. What did you expect? That we knew of some giant conspiracy? All I've been told is that the two skirmish every now and then, and that it's better to let this figure itself out. Not that I agree, mind you, a lot of my family are nonbenders, but orders are orders."

I sigh, slumping into my chair.

"Damn."

"I'm sorry. That's all I've got. We're more concerned about turf wars and Triad operations than Equalists for the time being."

There's a long, pregnant pause as I ponder in my chair. Then, suddenly, I stand.

"Thanks. I'll… see you around."

"Rai. Wait."

Kila stands, her expression earnest.

"I know… things haven't been _easy_ for you. These last few years, I mean. But… as your friend, or at the very least as your former partner… please. Come back to the force. We could use you."

I shake my head immediately.

"I screwed that up when I killed that trafficker. Even if they let me back in, why would I? I'd just see worse crap every day until I eat a fireball or drink myself into a coma."

"Like you're not doing that now?"

I look at her, fiery frustration rising in me.

"At least _this_ way, I can make some money and do things _my_ way. I'm not coming back, Kila. Ever. Goodbye."

To her credit, Kila doesn't flinch, crossing her arms and looking down at her desk.

"Then I wish you luck. Don't get killed, Rai."

I choke back the urge to retort angrily, and open the door.

"I'll try."

* * *

As I wind my way through the hallways of the HQ building, I hear the sound of clanking footsteps. Even before the gray-haired woman rounds the corner in front of me, I know who it is. The fast pace, the almost frustrated mutters, barely audible over the sounds of the station can only mean one individual.

Chief Lin Beifong pauses as she sees me, her face registering nothing but the grumpy pout she has always worn.

"Osada. What are you doing here? Who let you in here?"

Then, she shakes her head, crossing her arms.

"Never mind. I hope your reunion with Detective Kila went well. I can only wonder if you're not Wooly-Piggybacking off of my officer's work," she says, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Always good to see you, Chief," I say.

She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Just don't interfere with our investigations. You stick to taking lewd photos of adultery or whatever it is you're doing now."

With that, she strides down the hall confidently, and I look at her receding form, smiling slightly. So much is changing in this world, often for the better; it's good to see that some things are staying exactly the same.

* * *

By the time 8:00 rolls around, I'm about as lost as someone can be. I clutch my hair, staring at the notebook as if the writing will change.

 ** _Jasha- Immigrant from sandbender tribes. Lost her boyfriend a few weeks ago. Is definitely hiding something. (_** ** _Note- Equalist sympathizer or agent. Tailed her to a secret rally. Connection between_** ** _Triads/Equalists?)_**

 ** _Vinh- Boyfriend got lost after visiting the Darklight nightclub in Chadu Heights, in the South Bayside District. Possible Triad connection? Has price on head, courtesy of Monsoons._**

 ** _Hwan- Information broker. Has ties to the Terra Triad. Knows the location of Vinh after he left Darklight. Apartment ransacked by Terra Triad gangsters. Possibly dead._**

Then, something strikes me. That itching sensation, the one that happened earlier when I was at Jasha's apartment. I flip the notebook's page.

 ** _Evidence_**

 ** _Train Ticket- Ticket from Omashu to Republic City. Dated 164 AG- five years ago._**

Then, like the first rays of light from a rising sun, it hits me. When Jasha first approached me, she had said that she and Hwan had come over together, _two_ years ago. Even though the ticket said five years. Evidence worthy of courtroom it is not, but it's a discrepancy that catches my attention. If Jasha lied about that, what else was she lying about?

Then I think back to our last two meetings. The seductive advances, the move to have an affair with me so soon after her boyfriend's supposed disappearance?

Sure, there are explanations, but only one is rooted in my mind; I'm being played.

I flip through my notes again, thinking back. When I arrived at the Darklight to confront Tayani, I had noticed thugs sitting in the booths around us _as I approached_. As if they had been ordered to wait for me. And then when I had gone to Hwan's place, the thugs had reacted like they were setting an ambush.

What had the thug shouted? " _She's over_ _here_ "?And the other one I had interrogated, for a hardened gangster, he broke very easily.

A shiver goes down my spine.

The evidence isn't solid, but I know a gut feeling when I get one.

I'm being played.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Sorry this wasn't released sooner, It's been a hectic week at work. As always, I welcome feedback!**

 **-IGdude117**


	7. Chapter 7: Echoes from Long Ago

You know, you'd think that for someone so heavily experienced with the criminal world, both sides of it, paranoia wouldn't come easily.

That's the thought that occurs to me as I peek out the blinds of my apartment, searching the rows of windows across from me, the street below me, and the pedestrians walking across the sidewalks and streets that are hopefully ignorant of the half-crazed, sleep deprived woman staring at them from above.

As always, my eyes settle on the enclosed black Satomobile parked across the street, the same one that has been parked there for the last three days. It hasn't moved an inch since I first saw it. Sure, it could be a broken car that the owners were too lazy to repair. Or it could be watchers. Having been on the other side of a stakeout more than once, you could say I have a wealth of experience about the best ways to spy on people.

I shut the blinds, shaking my head and rubbing my eyes in exhaustion, striding over to my desk purposefully and slamming down the glass of tea mixed with hard liquor, staring at the words I have read time and time again, my vision shifting and throbbing.

I was set up. Why? For what purpose? By who? Am I wrong? Something isn't right.

I replay the scenes in my head as I have for the last few days, wracking my brain for every detail, yet the more I remember, the more things seem skewed and even fake. Is it confirmation bias? Is my instinctual, unwavering belief that everything is not as it seems tainting my memories of the past? Or is there really something going on?

I sigh in frustration, closing my notebook and hurling it away. My head slumps to the surface of my cluttered desk, and my eyelids droop closed.

* * *

 _I walk in the front door, stretching my arms and tugging at my school uniform in annoyance, the heat making the fabric of the uniform fit uncomfortably. I enter, seeing Lee taking his shoes off._

" _Rai," he says, tiredly._

" _What's wrong with you?" I ask, taking my own shoes off._

" _Big test today. I'm just tired, that's all. Aren't you supposed to be at firebending training right now?"_

 _I dump my satchel on the floor, pushing my younger brother's shoulder playfully._

" _How can you think of exams and training right now? There's a big party at Chan's in an hour. I'd much rather-"_

" _-go to a party than train?" interjects a stern voice._

 _I stop cold, then turn slowly, meeting the harsh gaze of my mother with fear._

" _Mom! Uh, I mean… no. I don't mean… what are you…. What?" I stammer._

 _My brother snorts derisively, slipping away into the house. My mother doesn't budge, grasping my hand and pulling me with her._

" _Come with me, young lady. We need to talk."_

 _I protest the entire way, squirming and cursing, until we reach the empty living room. A servant bows and leaves hurriedly as we enter, and my mother sits me down._

" _Rai…"_

" _Mom, I was just joking. I swear. Instructor Nakata said that we were-"_

" _Don't. Just, don't, Rai. That's beneath you."_

 _I huff a sigh of defeat, anticipating the lecture to come. My mother's eyes bore into me._

" _Rai, do you remember the story of how you got your name?"_

 _I roll my eyes._

" _You tell it to me all the time, Mom," I say, settling on the route of vindictive pettiness._

 _My mother is silent for a while, then speaks again._

" _Humor me. You were named for my older sister. Raia. Raia and I were born poor. We lived in the slums around the Capital City, begging for food and water, fighting with the other street children. But my sister and I, despite having no money, no parents, and nothing to our name, survived. Through all that time, Raia looked out for me. She thought nothing of herself; she went hungry for days at a time just to protect me. She taught me what firebending she knew, and when she left for the Army, it was like losing a sister_ and _a parent."_

" _When I heard she had been killed in the Second Siege of Ba Sing Se, my life fell apart. Nothing seemed worth it. I almost… well."_

 _She paused again._

" _The point is, my sister thought nothing of herself. She gave up everything to make sure that I could have a good life. When Saemo and I had you, he wanted to name you Mai or something. But I could think of only one name; hers. You know why? Because I had faith in you. When you were born, I hoped you would become like my older sister. Strong. Selfless. Brave. And you are those things, but… you could be so much more, Rai."_

 _I cross my arms, looking away._

" _Honey, look at me."_

 _I refuse for a minute, then reluctantly look at her. Her face is pleading, tired, and suddenly somewhat pale._

" _You're a smart girl. You're only fifteen, and you have some of the highest marks in your class. Your teachers always say that you would be the best in the school if you didn't get into so much trouble. You have so much potential… I don't want you to waste it going to parties that won't matter in five years."_

" _So what's your point?" I ask, harshly._

" _My point is… or rather, my question is… why? You have the gift of fire. You have the gift of intellect. Why throw that away?"_

 _My first instinct is to lie, to insult, but something in her eyes brings out the truth._

" _I'm… I'm not good at it, Mom. That's why. I'm not a good firebender. I can't even do half of the katas, and the others laugh at me."_

 _My mom looks at me, then smiles softly._

" _Rai, whether or not you're good at it doesn't matter. What matters is that you try. Even if you fail, over and over, you have to try. You'll get better at it, I promise. Look at Firelord Zuko. They say that when he was growing up, he was one of the worst benders in the history of the Royal Family. Yet now he's one of the greatest masters in the world. And his sister, the prodigy, went insane and disappeared. Effort is always more important than skill."_

 _I pout, but the truth in her words are undeniable._

" _How about this? I'll make you that mango juice you like so much, and then we'll go into the courtyard and I'll show you a few moves. You can show them to your father when he gets home next month."_

 _My angrier side tells me to refuse, but I relent, and smile._

" _Alright."_

* * *

As I open my eyes, I see light filtering through my blinds and am seized by a sudden burst of inspiration and drive. I glance through the blinds, seeing the black Satomobile and a dark-coated man smoking a cigarette while leaning on it inconspicuously, and smile slightly, walking over to my phone and dialing a number in.

"Hello," I say, with trepidation.

The response is short, questioning.

"They're coming for me soon. I'm talking to a contact. You know what to do," I say.

The stammered response is cut off suddenly as I put the phone down. I grasp the coat hanging in my closet, buttoning it closed, looking around at my apartment for what might be the last time. Then, giving myself a mental push, I exit the dim apartment and enter the unknown.

* * *

I finally corner Tired Tepeu in an alleyway after following him for several blocks. As he withdraws a large cigarette full of a deep green plant-like substance, I clear my throat, making him jump. He stuffs the cigarette into his suit, his face pale.

"Spirits, Osada, you scared the-"

"Cut the crap, Tep. I need information."

"I mean, if you want to meet up tomorrow, or something, I can give you-"

I grasp his collar and slam him against the wall, a fiery dagger sprouting from my fist.

"We're friends, aren't we, Tep? Then don't make me put you to sleep once and for all. This case has been lie after lie since the beginning. You know something, and I want to know what."

"What the hell are you talkin' about, Osada? I told you everything I-"

I raise the jet of roaring flame and he whimpers.

"FINE! Fine! J-Just don't kill me, alright? Please?"

I stare at him with an angry expression.

"L-look a-alright? R-R-Red Car Ryu w-wasn't the first we heard about this-this S-sandbender, alright? About a week before, w-we got a pack of T-Terra Triad g-guys come over to H-HQ. I… I was muscle for that. They asked Z-Zolt if they wanted to get in o-on a revenge killing."

"Revenge for what?"

"O-One of their m-merchandise guys, back in the day, got k-killed by a copper. Some g-guy in the T-Terra Triad wants revenge, said they was gonna lure this copper out a-and take 'em out. I… I didn't think they was talkin' about you until-"

I let go of his collar, and Tepeu lands on his knees.

"I'm sorry, R-Rai. I swear. I-I-I just didn't want to make the b-boss angry, ya know? You know what they say about Lightning Bolt… he-he-he ain't merciful. I gotta protect my own skin, ya know?"

I walk away, grimly. So my instincts were right, for once. I should have known that the Terra Triad wouldn't let a grudge go that easily. My slaying of Yaza had been more than two years ago, but it seems that they hadn't taken well to the execution of one of their members, and had waited in the shadows for their chance to strike.

I hate being right.

I melt into the crowd, more alert now. I find myself staring at every black Satomobile that passes on the road, and searching the face of every pedestrian I brush past, looking for that glint of intent or determination; the burst of quick movement, the flash of a sword, or dagger.

When the attack does come, it's when I'm in sight of my house, funnily enough. It's not a painful attack- just a sudden prick of pain on my shoulder- followed by my muscles weakening. I slouch towards a wall, crying out weakly as my tongue swells and I collapse to the ground. Several civilians look at me in surprise, starting forward to help, but a man in a black coat kneels by me.

"Rai? Spirits. Why did you drink so much? I always tell you to stay away from that bar. C'mon. I'll take you home," he says, in a worried voice.

The pedestrians take this as a sign of public drunkenness and move on, but panic shoots through my quickly fading system; I have never seen this man before in my life, and dread sets in as the black Satomobile's door opens and I'm bundled into the back seat. The man in the black coat sits in the passenger seat and nods at the driver, before taking his hat off and looking at me with a crooked smile.

"A little sloppy, but it worked. And good timing too; you had just started figuring it out. I'll hand it to you, detective, you figured it out a lot quicker than I thought you would. Looks like time hasn't tempered your intuition."

I try to scream for help, but only manage a hoarse whisper, and my eyes droop closed again.

 _At least it wasn't from booze this time,_ I think to myself as exhaustion takes me in its warm embrace.

* * *

I come to in a cold, dark warehouse, tied to a rickety chair. The panic builds dully in the pit of my chest, and I look around, my neck sore and tired. Two burly thugs stand behind me, staring straight ahead, at an empty chair and a table with a pail of water on it.

"Hello?" I say, loudly, hoping someone will hear me.

The echoing sounds of footsteps resonate from the far end of the warehouse, and the man in the black coat approaches me, followed by a swankily dressed woman in a red suit. The man is tall, well-built, with jade eyes and darker skin. I try to struggle, but my arms don't quite respond, and my attempts at bending don't work. Panic seizes me then; did they somehow… _take_ my bending? The thought is terrifying.

"Don't worry," the man says, as if he can read my mind.

"The Equalists are scum, but their use of chi blockers is quite handy. We have a couple on staff here. It'll come back in a couple of hours, but by then… well, it won't really matter."

The man nods to the woman, who stands outside of the circle of light illuminating my chair and the other that he promptly sits on.

"What am I doing here? What do you want?" I ask, angrily, wishing that looks could kill.

He smiles, crossing his legs.

"Fair questions. I'll introduce myself first. My name is Vinh."

I look at him in surprise. The reaction amuses him, and he chuckles.

"Yes. Your elusive and nonsensical quarry. It was a lot of fun, actually. Trying to come up with a twisty, mysterious case that was enigmatic enough to capture your attention but confusing enough to confuddle you. And I'll admit, you surprised us more than a few times. Your man in the Triple Threats was unexpected, as was your visit to Hwan. Those poor bastards… they had been told to expect you in a week; you came on their first day, when they actually had a job to do. And surprising Jasha at her apartment? Impressive. We had to change course more than once, and I'm not easily thrown off."

I snort derisively. I'm still terrified, of course, but putting on the air of being an arrogant dunderhead is nothing new in my career.

"Alright, so we're reenacting the plot of a bad novel. Now, if you're gutsy enough to let me out of the cuffs, let's end this once and for all, Vinh."

He laughs.

"Maybe so. You'll have to forgive my flights of drama. But before we get to any unpleasantness, I'd like to answer your last two questions. You're here because, as Tepeu told you, you killed one of our own two years ago. That's not something the Triad ever forgives or forgets. You had to have known that retribution was coming one way or another."

"As for what _I_ want… well, this is personal for me. You know enough about our operations to know that a higher-up like myself doesn't normally get personally involved in the _nitty gritty_ operations. You see… I came here a long time ago. Your friend Jasha didn't lie about that much; I'm a sander, born and raised. I came here- not with her, she's just a pawn- ten years ago with my brother."

He pauses again, as if to let his words sink in.

"My brother and I never had it easy, but we knew that Republic City was a melting pot. A place of opportunity for entrepreneurs like ourselves. So we came, and we joined the only business that was profitable then; criminal ones. I won't bore you with a long tale about rising through the ranks of the then-small Terra Triad, but needless to say we were living a good life."

I expect the next words that come out of his mouth, but they still strike fear into my heart as I sit there.

"Until my brother was killed by a detective during a drug bust. My brother and I… we were a team. Everything we did, we did together. He was the only family that mattered to me, and… well you hurt me that day. And what did the cops do? They didn't toss you in prison, no they just booted you to the corner and let you go on living your hateful, corrupt life."

"Corrupt?" I snap, angrily.

"Your brother kidnapped girls and overdosed them on drugs to use them for whatever screwed up purposes you people had in mind. I regret killing him without letting the courts do what they wanted to, but removing that scum from this earth was an improvement," I said, knowing that my provocation would not be unrewarded.

The red-suited woman moves in a single, fluid motion, and a thin tendril of water whips towards my face, ripping a tear in my cheek and causing pain to radiate all over my face. I cry out despite myself, and she draws back.

"You should know when you're done, Detective. From here, we'll torture you for as long as we can, then dump your body in the streets to show people that you can't kill a member of the Terra Triad without repercussions. I'd say it's just business, but…"

He looks at me cruelly, nodding towards the woman.

"... That'd be a lie."

The woman starts forward, and I tense up, anticipating what comes next.

* * *

 _I stoop over the railing of the liner, vomiting into the sea for the fifth or sixth time in the excruciating voyage. I heave for several minutes, before wiping my mouth with a handkerchief and tossing it into the sea with a groan._

 _My nausea quiets again, and I stagger back to the exterior seating of the ocean liner, sitting down with a grunt, and leaning against the wall, closing my eyes. The discomfort is almost enough to dull the biting pain that lingers on my face. I press my hand against the bandage there, and wince as pain from the stitches shock me._

 _I heave a sigh, leaning my elbows on my knees as I stare at the damp wood of the deck._

" _Spirits. And I thought I had it bad," says a voice from beside me._

 _I look to my left. A handsome man sits next to me, and by the blue coat he wears, is Water Tribe. I smile heartlessly, and turn away, hoping he'll sense my aversion to, well, all people._

" _Republic City?" he asks._

 _I nod._

" _The city of dreams, they call it. Gotta be better than everywhere else."_

 _Despite myself, I smile._

" _Hope so."_

 _The man smiles, leaning forward as well._

" _Nothing like running away from your problems, right?"_

" _Solves everything," I say, sardonically._

 _There's a silent understanding there. An acknowledgment._

" _I'm Taktuq. My fri-" he pauses, catching himself. "People call me Tak."_

 _He offers his hand. My first instinct is to refuse to shake it. After all, why should I? After what I just went through? The last years had shown me the fallacy in taking solace in others. It only opened you up for pain._

 _I shake his hand, despite myself._

" _Rai."_

" _Pleased to meet you, Rai. You want a drink?"_

 _He withdraws a clear bottle from his rucksack, and I grin._

* * *

I awaken with a scream as frigid water splashes over my face, and I splutter water from my lungs, gasping and coughing onto the freezing concrete floor. This goes on for a while, until I'm hoisted back onto the chair by the two thugs, the waterbender smiling at me.

"Admirable, fire-rat, but you've got a ways to go."

Vinh nods, and the waterbender repeats the same process she has ten times already; in a single movement, she bends the water around my head, encasing it in a globe of undulating water. I hold my breath desperately, as long as I can in the shockingly cold liquid, but as it has multiple times before, after what seems like an eternity of agony, I open my mouth, and I suffocate was water rushes in. Then, it stops, and I cough again, tears falling from my eyes in despair.

"Beg," Vinh says.

"Go to hell," I spit.

This time, when the waterbending bitch repeats the process, I nearly pass out, and am shocked back to consciousness by another pail of water.

"Beg for your life and apologize for killing my brother. Maybe I'll consider letting you keep it."

Part of me screams at myself to take his offer, damn the consequences. Nothing is worth this pain, is it?

"Dunk your head in the sea."

Vinh shakes his head, and sits across from me as I cough violently and shiver with the cold and the nerves.

"I admire you, Osada. I do. I hate you, of course, but that doesn't mean I don't respect you. You're sticking to your morals- even if that means you'll die a slow, painful death because of it. You have to understand, though. You killed my brother. You disrespected me, and the Triad. How would we look if we let something like that slide? No, Yue Bay is filled with people like you who thought they could flaunt the rules in this city and get away with it."

He smiles, as if remembering a long-lost memory.

"It's like my ancestors in the North said; we all return to the water, sooner or later."

Rage builds inside of me, and steam rises from me as my anger does.

"The Triads aren't in control of this city. Not yet. You bully, you threaten, you cajole, and you kill, but you just can't suppress the spirit of this place, can you? Its people will _never_ stop fighting, not as long as you harm innocent people. You and the other clans like to say that you're making this city better, giving people jobs, creating a sense of community, but you're really dividing us more than ever before. You're just greedy, selfish criminals."

I cough again, and can see blurry red splotches on my lap.

"I'm not proud of everything I've done in my life. Killing your brother isn't one of those things. What he did… even someone like you must see that what he did was evil."

Vinh shakes his head, nodding at the waterbender again. I brace myself, knowing that I probably won't survive much longer. Maybe it's for the best; I'm so tired… maybe it's time to rest.

I close my eyes, feeling… at peace. I regret a lot, of course; not seeing my brother again, not acting on my feelings towards certain people… so much was squandered in my life. If I had another chance-

The sound of breaking glass shatters the silence, and my eyes fly open. The dark warehouse is illuminated by several spotlights flooding the area with blinding light. Gray figures swing in through ropes, enveloping guards with the cords while the front doors burst open, allowing a swarm of gray-clothed figures to enter.

"No!" Vinh shouts, as he bends a chunk of the concrete towards the approaching figures. I close my eyes again, opening them again, and watch the battle end as quickly as it began.

The metalbending police officers are still as effective as ever, and I can see five thugs in cuffs. Three officers encase the waterbender in an earthen cone as a very familiar woman presses her foot into Vinh's back, fastening cuffs onto his wrists.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the fuzzy feeling, and can dimly feel arms holding me gently, and the metal shackles sliding off my wrists. I collapse off the chair, slumping into a pair of warm arms.

"You're okay, Rai. Take it easy," says a familiar voice.

My vision shifts again, and I smile dimly at Tak as he looks down at me.

"So you got my message?"

He nods.

"Scared the hell out of me, Rai, but yeah. I've got your back."

"Good," I mutter.

I turn my head as Chief Beifong hoists Vinh off of the ground. The man curses the entire time, swearing vengeance and retribution at the stony-faced police chief.

"I don't know how you were under our radar this whole time, punk, but you're sure as hell on it now. Take him downtown, men."

"Damn you all. Damn you all to the deepest pit of nightmare. I curse you."

He's dragged by me, and I sit up, still unsure of whether any of this is real. The anger I feel, though, is enough to make me not care.

"Vinh."

The bedraggled man glares at me with a murderous look.

"If you or any of your people come after me again, I'm going to kill you. That's a promise."

He snarls in rage, struggling against the grips of the officers as they drag him out. Beifong walks by, looking at me with something resembling a bemused expression.

"You okay, Osada?"

"Not really, ma'am," I groan, the pain flaring up again.

"Well, in any case; you did the right thing. Don't get into any more trouble."

She walks away, I lean back into Tak's lap, closing my eyes as tiredness grips me more than the pain.

"You okay, Rai?" Tak asks, concerned.

"More or less," I murmur.

"I just want to go home."

Tak smiles, and lifts me up.

"Then let's go home, shall we?"

* * *

 **Sorry for the super long wait, guys: I've been working on finishing the first draft of my novel, but now that I've completed that goal, I'm back! _Republic City Noire_ will continue with our next case: The Cult of the Flower. Watch this space!**

 **And as always, I'm happy to hear your feedback. Hope you enjoyed!**


	8. Chapter 8: The Changing Wind

I look at the unconscious, and slightly singed, body being loaded into an ambulance with a mixture of bemusement and detached indifference.

"How'd you know it was the taxi driver, though?" asks the dependably dull Detective Aozo, who stands with his hands on his hips.

"You mean other than the fact that he tried to get me to swallow poison?" I ask, sarcastically.

"Well- yeah."

I sneak a Blue Spirit from my coat, lighting it up with my fingertip and savoring the smoke as it flows through my lungs.

"It's the only real explanation, Detective. How else could he kidnap so many different people and avoid detection while maintaining his mobility? It's the logical choice."

Aozo scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"If you say so, Osada. In any case, Captain Kila authorized me to pay you your professional fee, as usual," he says begrudgingly.

I take the stack of yuans, running my thumb across the crisp bills with a smile.

"I'd say it was a pleasure doing business with you, Detective, but that wouldn't strictly speaking be very true," I say with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah. Go take some pictures of cheating spouses, why don't you?"

I breathe out a cloud of smoke in the surly detective's face, and walk away from the flashing lights of the police cars, smiling broadly. I walk a couple of blocks, and then make my way through the train station.

The train is silent and still at this time of night. It's the beginning of the week; most people are either asleep, or suffering through a late shift.

I count myself lucky, and cross my arms.

Outside, the city glows with life, but underneath its flashy exterior is the growing rot of crime and tension. That doesn't trouble me as much as it probably should, though. Trouble means money, and since I survived the Terra Triad's hit attempt, business has been booming.

For some people, an experience like that leaves scars. And that's not to mean it hasn't; I've lost track of the amount of times I've felt nervous or paranoid in a crowd of people. Seeing black satomobiles still gives me the creeps, and I get shivers sometimes when I see water.

Getting forcibly drowned a few dozen times can do that to you.

But things are good. All things considered. I wouldn't say I got famous for taking down Vinh the Vicious, as they called him, but I got something of a street rep. More smaller cases, a slew of them really, that has allowed me to live a bit more comfortably. At least in sense that I'm not behind in the rent by a few dozen months, at least.

I look down at a newspaper beside me, however, and remember that all is not well in the City of Dreams.

 **EQUALIST PROTESTERS CLASH WITH POLICE IN SENLIN**

The stenciled drawing depicts a crowd of angry protesters flinging fire-bombs and hitting riot officers with staffs and clubs. Almost the twentieth major clash in the nearly five months since the Vinh case.

I sigh as the train rumbles over a dip in the tracks. Politics haven't interested me in a while, but I'm smart enough to see that there's a storm coming. Nonbenders and benders have been at each other throats because of the masked freak leading the Equalists, and you don't have to be Wise Old Iroh to see the way the wind's blowing.

"Piandao station is next," mutters the bored-sounding conductor over the PA system.

By the time the doors rattle open, I'm essentially on the platform and headed for home. I pass some hastily-glued Equalist posters again, and I stride down Tiger Shark Alley with a smile. It's good to be back.

* * *

I walk in the door of my apartment, dropping the stub of my cigarette into the trash as I turn on the radio I was able to buy last week with the money I earned spying on an industrial saboteur. Shiro Shinobi's whinny voice cuts on, talking animatedly about the Badgermoles winning another round in tonight's Probending match.

I pick up the glass of fire whiskey that I had poured this morning and down it with a grimace. Old booze is like an illness, in my eyes; it's not pleasant to go through, but you'll feel a hell of a lot better when it's over.

I take the stack of bills from my coat, tossing the black jacket over a chair piled with books, and switch on my desk lamp with a wave of my hand. I light another Blue Spirit for the hell of it, and lean back in my chair, counting the bills and tossing them into the makeshift safe I scrounged from an estate sale.

When the knock on the door finally comes, it startles the hell out of me, and I jump a little. The cigarette is a stub, essentially, and I grind it into my ashtray, wondering where the time went. The knock comes again, and I stand angrily.

"Spirits, give me a damned second," I blurt.

I shake my head, downing another shot of the whiskey, looking at the now-empty decanter in disgust. I stride over to the door, and unlock it, leaving the chain in place as the door opens slightly.

A tallish man in a black suit stands there with a sort of annoyed look on his face.

"What?" I ask harshly.

"You're Osada?" he asks.

"You don't gotta be so incredulous about it, but yeah. You have a job for me?"

He sighs, then nods.

I close the door, and remove the chain, beckoning for him to follow.

"Close the door behind you."

He does so awkwardly, and as he enters my 'office', I take a second to study him. The man is… cautious, I suppose. A man who is subconsciously nervous but utterly devoted to the task at hand. I notice his eyes flicker to the closed blinds first, and as he sits, he checks the room for eavesdroppers, as if he has been doing that for his entire time.

"Want a drink?" I ask, pulling two bottles of Cabbage Corp's signature cheap beer from my refrigerator.

He shakes his head, and I notice with interest that the man seems on edge. Twitchy.

If I have to guess at this juncture, he's cautious because he has something to hide. His suit suggests he's either a businessman or politician. I notice a faint dull circle on the lapel of his suit. To me, that implies that he's a politician; they all wear circular pins on their suits with the emblems of the United Republic on them. This one must never take his pin off, which means he wears the same suit time and time again, suggesting a career politican of sorts.

At least, that's my guess. I'm only somewhat aware of how drunk I am, so I could be reading too deeply into minute details.

"What can I help you with, Mr…" I ask, reaching for a name.

"Let's not. I have a job, and I want it discreet. Can you do that?"

I look at him with a smirk.

"I'm not a street girl, if that's what you're looking for."

"No. I don't have time for this. Are you interested, or no?"

"I don't make a habit out of doing blind jobs like this."

He sighs in frustration, and pulls his briefcase onto his lap, unlocking the clasps and turning it around in a fluid motion, revealing rows upon rows of yuans within.

"10,000 yuans say you can make an exception. 25,000 upon complettion," he says.

"For 35,000, Mister, I'd even reconsider my 'street girl' comment. What did you have in mind?"

He ignores my joke, taking a yellow envelope out of his coat pocket. He hands it to me, and I pull out a photograph of a bookish woman with brown hair, a thin, narrow face, and round glasses, smiling tiredly at a camera."

"That- is Miss Napua of the Republic City Herald. Political Journalist, op/ed writer, and a nuisance to my employer. Ms. Napua has taken a particular interest in taking down the storied career of my employer for no particular reason, and we suspect she has some sort of vendetta against my employer. We'd like you to do what you do best."

"I've been told I'm good at quite a few things," I retort.

"Investigate. Why does she have a vendetta against my employer and his associates? Find out what she wants, and find any dirt you can on this reporter. You turn the information over to me, and you'll get your money."

I flip the photograph over, looking at the scrawled phone number and Napua's name and address.

"And your employer, the Councilor-" I say with a smirk as he predictably stiffens.

At least that confirms one of my suspicions.

"Is this legal?"

"I was told you had no holdups about working outside the law."

"I don't. Just making sure you know what you're getting into. Your offer is very generous, but I'll have to take some time-"

The man shakes his head.

"We don't have time for that. You either take it or leave it, Detective. That's my offer."

I look at him carefully. His edgy behavior is far from comforting. A job like this- with so many blind spots and unknowns… well, I wouldn't want to end up tied to a chair in a warehouse, getting drowned alive again.

The money is very tempting, though. And on the surface, the job just sounds like a simple surveillance job.

I sigh, hoping I won't regret this later.

"Fine. I'll take the job. When do you want information?"

"As soon as possible," he says, clasping the case closed and setting it on my desk with a very satisfying thump.

"I'm assuming I can reach you with this number?" I ask, gesturing to the photo.

He nods again.

"Very well. I'll start immediately. Thank you for your business."

"I hope to hear from you soon," the man says curtly, before leaving promptly.

As the door closes again, I'm left feeling uneasy. The entire transaction felt a bit shadier than I'd like, but the money's enough that I don't really give a damn. I walk over to the door and lock it again, then stride back towards one of my several piles of books and papers, an idea burning in my mind.

I find a copy of the Herald, flipping through the pages until I find what I'm looking for.

* * *

 _ **COUNCILMAN TARRLOK: A BENDING TYRANT TO RIVAL OZAI**_

 _By Reporter Napua, Political Correspondent_

 _REPUBLIC CITY, UNITED REPUBLIC- Councilman Tarrlok again proved himself an enemy of all nonbending citizens of the Republic when he announced today that the municipal code wouldn't apply to…_

* * *

I nod, glad to know that my hunch was correct.

So, I think to myself as I light yet another cigarette. Councilman Tarrlok wants some off-the-books work done. Might as well oblige.

I smile, feeling the familiar thrill of a new case building in my chest. I down another glass and grab my trusty notebook.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone! So another chapter in Rai Osada's story begins. Chronologically, this arc will be taking place roughly parallel to Korra Season 1, but I'll hold off on more details at the risk of entering spoiler territory! In response to the last few very kind reviews, I do have several cameo appearances by Korra characters planned for the future.  
**

 **One thing to note is that I prefer to stay as canon compliant as I can. So while Korra characters will show up (and I even have plans for one of them to be somewhat integral in one of the cases), they won't be main characters, per se. That being said, I'm still outlining, so that could change.**

 **And- provided that Rai survives that long ;) - I have been reading Turf wars with interest, especially with the return of the bending Triads! Hopefully I can find a way to possibly integrate those story arcs.**

 **In any case, thank you for your patience, and I always welcome feedback! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **IGdude117**


	9. Chapter 9: Boulder Park Bustle

The noodle bar is cramped and busy as I poke my chopsticks into a bowl of noodles that look incredibly unappetizing. I glare angrily as some kid bumps into my table, jarring the bowl and sloshing brown broth onto the wooden table. The kid pays me no attention, chattering loudly about a Pro-Bending match to his friends.

I sigh, placing a Blue Spirit between my lips and lighting the tip of my finger on fire.

"No smoking in here. No bending neither," says a surly waitress as she passes by.

I groan, dousing the light and sliding the cigarette back into its pack, staring through the cloudy window and through the falling snow to the reason I'm stuck in this dingy diner. The number that my shady employer so kindly provided me proved to be an address; a large cluster of tenement buildings where my mark lives. Despite my current conditions, I'm at least _generally_ impressed that this woman, Napua, has managed to get an apartment Downtown.

Though I suppose it's fitting that a journalist make her home in the heart of the Republic.

I lean back in my booth and tear my eyes from the front door of the tenement, looking at the other occupants of the cafe.

Most look to be workers. Grease-stained coveralls and rolled sleeves dominate the establishment. A few men and women in rumpled suits slumber on the counter, empty glasses and bowls beside them. In the corner, a woman in a disheveled blue United Forces uniform, sits slumped over, a bottle of sake sitting before her. A group of teenagers- probably students from the University- sit in one of the booths, dressed in fashionable, probably expensive clothing, talking loudly as they ignore common decency to look trendy. The kid who bumped my table unsuccessfully tries to appear uninterested in the attractive girl beside him.

Behind the counter, a cook bends streams of soup broth into bowls while a firebender toils over a stove.

I sigh again.

Depression seems to pervade the establishment. It's a feeling I know well. The surface of Republic City is a bright, shimmering metropolitan dream of technological innovation and harmony. The truth is that everyone is miserably trying to work their way through life and make enough money to keep themselves off the street. And most fail. That's the point of life, after all; work yourself to death so that you might be able to provide your loved ones some semblance of comfort in a lifetime of pathetic, desperate survival.

And if you can escape the clutches of sea-jackals like me or predators like the Triads, then you're set.

 _Spirits_ , I think to myself with a sardonic smile. _I'm a cynical bitch, aren't I?_

I pick up a few scraggly noodles and slurp them up tiredly. The broth is somewhat weak; they've definitely diluted the soup with water. Probably to cut down on costs. The booze I sip is similarly watery, and I put it down with a grimace.

I decide to open my journal, flipping open to a blank page.

 _ **Persons of Interest:**_

 _ **The Man in the Black Suit**_

 _Mystery. Offered to hire me to dig up dirt on Napua, a reporter. Based on articles in the Republic City Herald, I think he's a crony for Councilman Tarrlok. Jumpy._

 _ **Napua**_

 _Political Journalist for the Republic City Herald. Seems to have a grudge against the Council, especially Tarrlok. Has an apartment Downtown. Need dirt on her._

I shake my head to myself. This case leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth, but the money is good enough that I'm more than willing to overlook that.

 _Is that what you've become? A mercenary? Little better than the hitmen that knock off unsuspecting civilians every other week?_

Maybe I am. I'm a screwed-up, problematic wreck of a human being, and nothing I can do will change that fact. Money's the only thing worth a damn anymore, and even that 'truth' is fundamentally flawed. I down the booze and gesture for another as snow begins to intensify outside. It'll be a long night.

* * *

 _I peer through the binoculars with interest._

" _Ten of them. Some sort of cabin. Electricity. They've got a dock leading out to the water, probably to a raiding ship."_

 _The wizened voice of Sergeant Gyolar whispers beside me._

" _Good work, rookie. Follow me, and keep up."_

 _I drop the binoculars, my heart thumping in my chest as my armor pinches me uncomfortably. I follow the form of the sergeant for what seems like an eternity of crawling through prickle-bushes and harsh dirt before entering the clearing where the other six of my comrades wait._

 _I heave a sigh of relief, grinning towards Megumi. The young, black-haired girl smiles as I approach._

" _Good hunting?"_

" _Good hunting," I affirm, grinning._

" _Figures. You get the first look at the bastards while I'm back here making sure Tage and Yii don't kill each other."_

 _The two recruits in question, fellow graduates of my class, look up with a strangely synchronized look of mock hurt._

" _Aww, c'mon. We was just messin' around," Tage says with a rough accent._

 _Yii punches the large man in the shoulder with a chuckle._

" _If I was trying to kill this blockhead, I woulda done it back in basic training."_

 _I grin just as Sergeant Gyolar gestures for us to gather around. I take a familiar place next to Megumi's left shoulder, peering over the maroon and crimson uniforms to a rough diagram._

" _Alright, here's the camp. Private Osada here and I saw around ten pirates on our reconnaissance sweep. They've got a boat, and from what I could see, it matches the description of one of the raiding fleet that's been hitting towns all throughout this province. Our job is to force their arrest, or, failing that, end them. We move in three teams. Corporal Xuhao, take Tage and Buzon. Corporal Yazo, take Zie and Yii. Megumi and Osada, you're with me. My team will initiate, and try to force them to surrender. If that fails, I'll give a signal, and all teams will converge on the camp and sweep. Is that clear?"_

 _The assembled soldiers nod._

 _Many of the faces, including mine, are fresh. We only graduated from basic training about a week ago, after all. We've seen no combat, no raids. The nation that Firelord Zuko had rebuilt from the ashes of war was great, yes, but the frontiers that had remained untouched even throughout the Hundred Years' War had grown wilder. The death toll and news from the fringes of Fire Nation society were almost like a war; the skirmishes between the government and the criminals had seen many perish._

 _I push this knowledge from my mind. I've worked hard through training. I know my job, and I'm determined to do it. The curses of my father and the devastated look in my mothers eyes echo in my mind._

 _There's no going back._

" _I don't want any mistakes on this one, troopers. We get in, get out, and get the job done. Good luck. May the ancestors guide us all."_

 _I lock eyes with Megumi, my friend through all of this, and we smile at each other._

 _We've got this._

* * *

"Hey, this ain't a shelter, lady. If you ain't buyin' anything else, scram."

I jolt awake. The grumpy waitress looks at me, her eyes more barren and tired now. I glance at my watch; it's nearly 4:00 in the morning.

"Leave me alone."

The waitress shakes her head.

"Look, I'm just doin' my job, yeah? Either order something or get outta here."

I sigh, passing her a crumpled five-yuan bill.

"Whaddya want?"

"Something that'll help me stay awake."

The waitress was silent for a moment.

"You want that old airbender drink? Some wealthy guy in the Earth Kingdom is tryin' to bring it back. They roast these special beans that only grow around the air temples. Says the ancient airbending masters used to drink it to help them meditate longer."

I chuckle.

"Sounds like a load of air bison crap."

She shrugs.

"That's what I said."

I smile, and fish an extra three yuans from the bottom of my coat pocket, passing it to her as a tip and looking out the window again. The snow has slowed; it's less a blinding blizzard that belongs in the North Pole, and more an urban sprinkle of snow that-

The front door of my quarry's apartment building opens, casting a rectangle of light over the dark snow. A younger woman exits, and I catch a glimpse of the same bookish face and glasses from the picture. I get up quickly, scattering the remains of my pocket change on the table as I enter the frigid street. I clasp my coat closer together, buttoning the pockets again as I follow what I can only assume is Napua down the street.

Luckily, when it snows in Republic City, the soot and crap from the industrial districts mix with the ice to make a sort of grayish sleet, so I blend right in.

I follow her for all of twenty minutes before she stops, turning into the dark and deserted Boulder Park, near the Silk Road Bridge. I wait for a minute, dropping my Blue Spirit into the mushy snow, before digging my hands deeper into my pockets and following her.

A gust of frigid wind slithers its way through the sparse trees and rock gardens of Boulder Park, whispering doubts in my ear as I follow the glimpses of my mark through the foliage. When she finally stops, sitting on a solitary bench in an oasis of flickering yellow light, I linger back, peeking around the corner of a locked and dilapidated maintenance building.

I let out a slight sigh, leaning back against the knotted wood of the shack.

 _Is this what I've come to?_ I wonder, quietly, making sure to peek around the corner every few seconds. _Stalking people on the orders of some shadowy politician who wants to blackmail his opponent?_

 _I used to be someone. I had dreams. I wanted to accomplish things. Then, one day... I didn't._

 _I ended that when I killed a suspect in cold blood,_ I remind myself. _There are lines in this screwed up, crappy world, and I crossed just about all of them._

 _Not to mention… the things I had done before._

I shake my head, my mind feeling groggy and too cold as I peeked around the corner, only to see a man wearing a large gray coat sitting beside Napua, talking softly. I strain my ears, but Republic City howls its displeasure through the roaring wind.

Then, I see it. A wad of Pinks transferred from one hand to the other. Serious cash. With that, the two stand, walking in opposite directions. I scribble a note in my book and decide to follow Napua. For a moment, a feeling of paranoia creeps in. Could it be another setup? It might have been five months since my run in with Vinh the missing-but-not-really sandbender, but it makes me a bit more wary now.

I leave the park gratefully, wondering if my quarry will have the common decency to let me follow her into a place with central heating.

* * *

When Napua walks into the offices of The Republic City Herald, I'm startled to realize that it's nearly 8 in the morning. Time for work. I suppress a yawn, pulling a Blue Spirit out of my pocket and lighting it on my finger as I lean on an adjacent building, weighing my options.

The way I figure, I have an opportunity here. I glance at the scribbled address, and hail a cab.

By the time I arrive at Napua's apartment, it's nearly midday, and my stomach is beginning to feel it. I look at the cafe I had spent the previous night in wistfully, but push the thought away.

After.

I walk in, avoiding the gaze of some exciting tenants, and begin the climb tiredly. Unfortunately, she lives on the 23rd floor, and I climb with mounting exhaustion. Thankfully, when I arrive, the hall is empty, so I'll have no onlookers.

I find her apartment, glance around again, and I withdraw my hook and pin. I'm a bit rustier than I remembered, so it takes a few tries, but I make it in eventually, showing myself in and closing the door softly behind me.

The apartment is nice; nicer than any I've seen in a while, at least. The organized, tidy surroundings are practically color coded. Even more so than Jasha's. An obsessive personality, then.

A thorough search of the apartment yields nothing but contemptuous jealousy at the reporter's living conditions. Her desk is clean- uncharacteristically so for a reporter- and I find filing cases full of folders containing quotes, stories, and notes.

I glance at my pocketwatch, seeing that it's been nearly two hours since I entered the apartment. I stare at the bookshelf on the adjacent wall, the exhaustion pulling on my eyelids. It's been a long day.

Then, I see it. A weathered book. It was once nice-quality red leather. Now, however, it's tattered and faint. As if it's been handled often. This wouldn't be weird, of course, if not for the fact that every other book on the shelf is in pristine condition; collector's editions, meant to look fancy and educated.

I cross over, hoping my hunch is correct.

Nothing. There's no hidden button, or shelf, or anything.

I groan in dejection, looking at the book.

 _Legends of the Lotus_

 _A Study of Secret Societies_

 _By Professor Pavagi, Anada University_

I open it, thumbing through the blocks of text until I come across a cut-out compartment in the pages. I sit forward. Inside the compartment is a rolled up, small scroll. I carefully remove it, unfurling it, my eyes scanning the words.

 _ **You've done well. Preparations are nearing completion. Continue undercover assignment. Equalists should be encouraged to succeed. Will pave the way for HC. Destabilization of URN essential for future plans. More funds to follow.**_

 _ **-Freedom**_

I put the scroll down, and begin feverishly scribbling in my notebook.

As I write, I hear the telltale sound of a key entering a lock, and panic shoots through me. I roll the scroll back up, and stuff it into the book, sliding it into the shelf and looking around in terror for an exit.

Then, I remember that I'm more than 20 floors above the ground, and dread mounts in my stomach.

I look at the door to a small balcony, and I feel the bad ideas flowing. I sprint over, opening the door to the balcony as the door to the apartment opens.

As I vault the balcony impulsively, I hear a startled (and muffled) " _What the-_ " before I jump.

It's only until I'm falling that I realize I've made a huge mistake. I let out a panicked scream as the wind blinds me and the busy street below approaches rapidly. Instinctually, I begin bending and… miraculously, my velocity slows.

I look around, seeing shocked, upturned faces staring up at me as I hover- very unsteadily- in the air, jets of flame streaming from my feet and fists. I let out a hysterical giggle. I've always wanted to try fire-flying. Guess this was my chance.

Then, a wave of exhaustion hits, and I fall the last dozen feet or so onto the hard, hard pavement. I feel a bone or five in my legs break and I shout in pain, gritting my teeth as pain floods through me.

 _I have to get out of here_ , I think to myself. _Or else she'll figure out who I am._

"Spirits!" exclaims a swarthy businessman, and the crowd around me backs up, staring at me like a zoo exhibit.

"Yeah… thanks for… helping," I grunt, through the pain.

The crowd parts, and I try to crawl away, only to come face-to-face with two sets of polished black boots. I look up slowly, and then grimace sheepishly at the two police officers standing over me with varying looks of horror.

"I'm… a performer…" I explain, before passing out.

* * *

I wake up in a hospital bed. I wish I could say that's the first time that's happened to me, but I'm not one for lying. At least, not until I'm being paid to.

"You're four kinds of stupid, aren't you?"

As my vision clears, I see a familiar face, and do a double take in confusion.

"Kila?" I ask, incredulously. "Am I losing it?"

" 'Fraid not, partner," she smiles, leaning forward.

I look down at my legs, which look and feel relatively normal again, albeit with a hell of a lot of itchiness.

"Damn."

"So…" she asks, lighting a Blue Spirit. "Wanna tell me _why_ you tried to fly off of a building?"

"Depends. You want to give me one of your smokes?"

"Spirits, no. You know how much money I make in a week? I don't have that kind of disposable income," she says derisively.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. For a moment, I considered telling her. Certainly, the ominous note about the Equalists was worthy of reporting to the police, but… well, if my true employer is who I think it is, then they'll know if I report it to the police. As will Napua and her shady friend, no doubt.

So I make the stupid decision to keep quiet, and shrug.

"Work got out of hand," I say simply.

Kila chuckles humorlessly.

"Right. And if I decide to book you for disturbing the peace? Maybe a few days in a cell would make you more amenable to sharing your activities?"

I laugh, snatching the cigarette out of her mouth and taking a long draw.

"Well, I could always use the company."

Kila looks at me, then shakes her head, the shadow of a smile playing across her face.

"Watch yourself, Rai. You don't want to get mixed up in the wrong kind of trouble. The cavalry won't always be there to save you."

"I count on it."

Kila smirked again, standing and withdrawing another cigarette from her coat.

"Don't get yourself killed, Rai. You don't have to be alone in this."

"I know," I say emptily.

As she leaves, I look back down at my feet, wiggling them around. _She's wrong_ , I think to myself.

 _I am alone._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I'm back! Thank you so much to everyone who stuck by me while I was figuring some stuff out. I've been struggling a lot with making time for this hobby I love so much, and while I can't guarantee I'll ever be able to post with regularity, I hope you believe me when I say I'll always come back to FanFiction.**

 **In any case, I've been planning a lot for the direction I want this series to go, and to those who mentioned it, I _will_ be incorporating the lore and story introduced in the Turf Wars comic books. Eventually. **

**In any case, thank you again to everyone who has continually supported this series, and as always, I welcome any feedback you may have!**

 **-IGdude117**


	10. Chapter 10: Walking Through Shadows

The radio blares as I stand in the window, staring down at the street below and holding a glass of fire whiskey in my hand.

" _ **I tell ya, folks, I've never seen moxy like this in a team so young. Mako advances, Bolin hot on his tail. Hasook hangs behind, blocking some frightful earth discs from Lei. Boy, the Badgermoles are sure faltering this round and- OH! There goes Wuying into the drink, courtesy of Mr. Bolin, thank-you-very-much. The other Badgermoles are hesitant, and oh, if the Ferrets aren't pressing their advantage. Here's Mako, giving a stern flurry of fire-blasts to seal the deal, and-"**_

The bathroom door opens behind me, and a thin, bookish man stumbles out awkwardly.

"Well, gee- thanks Rai. I had- well. I had fun last night."

I take a swig of the whiskey, finishing the glass as I look at him, perplexed.

"What's your name again?"

"P-Praka."

I smile as I stuff my arms in my black coat, buttoning it closed. I hand the empty glass over to him.

"Close the door when you leave, Praka."

I walk out, hands in my pockets, leaving Praka dumbfounded in the living room behind me. In truth, I had remembered his name. I remember him being handsome and funny enough to warrant me having a good time last night, but he obviously wasn't intent on staying true to his promise of keeping things casual.

Nice guy. But nice guys are a dime a dozen in this city, and most of 'em don't last long. The land is littered with the ashes of a thousand nice guys.

As I walk out of the building, I'm pleased to see a green-and-red hot rod with tinted windows waiting for me. A man in fancy clothes with shaggy facial hair and a topknot waits outside, his arms crossed.

"Timbul," I say with a nod. "How are you?"

"Don't talk to me," he says gruffly.

I bundle into the car, smiling warmly at the dark-skinned woman across from me, whose olive-green eyes look at me with a sort of mischievous recognition.

"Rai Osada," she says in a way that makes me shudder.

"Jargala- always a pleasure."

She chuckles lightly.

"It sure is."

She snaps, and the car pulls away with a roar.

"You look good," I say, awkwardly.

"You're not looking so bad yourself," she retorts.

There's a long silence, and I twiddle my thumbs, looking idly outside at the passing traffic.

"Your boss know about this?" I ask.

"Arafu doesn't know anything I don't _want_ him to know," she replies airily, levitating a chunk of jennamite in the air.

"So why bother?" I say, mischievously.

Jargala looks at me, her lips twisting into a grin.

"Oh, you know. The other bosses know Arafu. They can deal with him and keep the status quo all they like. Meanwhile… well, let's just say I have plans for the Creeping Crystals. For _now_ , Arafu isn't in the way of them."

I laugh.

"I pity the man who gets in your way."

Jargala looks at me again, her expression harder this time.

"Or woman. Look, Rai, I'm doing this as a favor. For old time's sake. But if you get in my way, like you did with the Terras… well, you won't have to worry about your rent ever again."

I hold my hands up defensively.

"Look, I don't bite the hand that feeds me. You go ahead corrupting the city all you want, I just want information."

She nods, apparently satisfied with the answer.

"Good. You're lucky our interests are aligned. You get information, and I get an _informant_."

The satomobile enters the energy district, the guards at the front gate raising it in a hurry, wide eyes betraying the reputation of the Creeping Crystals' second in command. After a few more minutes, the satomobile pulls into an abandoned warehouse, and we're ushered inside by more gangsters.

I step out into the warmer interior of the power plant, my eyes settling on the figure tied up to a chair in a singular circle of light. Kind of similar to the position I was in five months ago, actually.

"Xasan!" Jargala says, with a mock enthusiasm.

The slightly chubby, middle-aged man looks up in fear.

"Oh, Spirits. Uh, Jargala- I, uh… I'm sorry. I thought I'd have the money by now, b-but I swear- it's just been a slow year, and I-"

Jargala holds up her hand, and the man silences himself. No doubt he missed the deadline on his gambling debts. Usually, when people don't pay their debts to the Creeping Crystals, their bodies are found in the park encased in jennamite. This one is lucky- I'm luckier.

"Yeah, I don't care," the mobster replies, icily. "You betrayed me, Xasan. The fact that you're even breathing right now is thanks to the mercy of myself and my friend here. Now, I'm willing to give your worthless carcass another chance. A chance to repay me for my generosity. You'll tell me _everything_ you hear about _anything,_ and you'll work your rear to death if I need information. Is that clear? Oh, and I'll still expect you to pay your debts."

"Oh, yes. Of course. I-I'll do anything you want Jargala. I swear on my grandmother's ashes, I'll do it."

Jargala flashes me a smile, then nods.

"Good. Answer my friend's questions, and you'll be released for the day."

I walk forward, and she gives me another look.

"You've got five minutes."

"I don't need five," I reply slyly, before standing in front of the chief editor of the Republic City Herald.

"Tell me about Napua."

"N-Napua? What about her?" he asks, nervously.

"When did she start criticizing the Council? Talk."

A thug steps forward from the shadows, and Xasan flinches. A pang of guilt runs through me. Am I doing the right thing here? Certainly not, but this is the easiest way I can see to get the information I need.

"A-Alright! Napua was… well, she was my best writer. World News, actually. Covered the Si Wong Desert conflict, the coronation of Firelord Izumi and the attempted coup after, even the death of Hiroshi Sato's wife. But…"

He lets out a shaky sigh.

"About a year ago, she requests a transfer to Op-Ed. Starts bad mouthing the Council, the government, even just benders in general. Every time her editor would try to complain, she'd hit him with threats. Well founded threats- she's got friends in high places. Eventually, the paper decided to let her run whatever she wanted; she seemingly had unlimited funds and a grudge against benders, and we were told not to interfere. It… It was strange, for sure. She never even cared about the Council until a year ago. Then, she surfaces with dirt on most of the Council and starts going all Equalist on us. I swear, I don't know why."

I look at the man carefully. He shifts around in his seat, bruised and nervous, but I don't see any signs of him lying. Just signs of him being roughed up. I nod.

"Where have you sent her now?"

"Well, after the break-in at her place, we decided to allow her to go to Taku for her safety. Councilman Cai Fu is returning to Ba Sing Se to meet with the Earth Queen, and he's stopping in Taku to drum up support. She wanted to cover it, and we didn't want her to stop running her pieces."

"Why? Isn't it damaging to your paper's reputation for her to badmouth the Council?"

He laughs harshly.

"You kidding me, lady? I may not agree with that Equalist air bison crap, but it sells. Our papers sold twice the amount of copies as soon as she started running her articles."

I shake my head, scribbling the last of his words in my notebook.

"Where's she staying?"

He sighs, looking down.

"You gonna kill her?"

"No."

He nods, resigned.

"The Onyx Blossom Hotel. Room 322. I just signed the money order today."

"Thank you."

He says nothing, broken, and I walk away, nodding at Jargala.

"You need a ride home?" she asks coyly.

I shake my head with a terse smile. I feel... dirty. Conflicted.

"I'm alright. I need to think anyways. You gonna encase him?"

She looks at the editor who slumps over in his chair despondently.

"No, not yet. He could be useful. We Triads always need good press. I'll see ya around, Rai."

I turn around, smiling.

"Don't count on it."

* * *

I walk onto the airship with some trepidation. Being stuck in a metal tube, crammed next to strangers for a 5 hour flight isn't my idea of fun.

As I walk down the cramped metal passageway, dread fills me as I see that most of the seats are already taken. I barely contain a groan of horror, eyeing an empty seat next to a young man in an United Forces uniform. I shake my head. I can already tell by the enthusiastic glimmer in his eyes that he'll be obnoxious.

"This seat taken?" I ask, in a monotone.

The man- kid, more accurately- nods enthusiastically.

"No, ma'am! Feel free! Can I help you with you with your bag?"

I shake my head, shoving my rucksack in the overhead compartment and taking my seat uncomfortably, kicking myself mentally for paying 100 yuans for this incredibly tormenting experience.

"So! You from around here?"

I sigh loudly, and the kid seems to ignore the cue, his ineffable smile nauseating me.

"Sort of. I'm from the Fire Nation, originally. Been living in Republic City for the last eight years."

He laughs for no reason. It's a nervous laugh.

"That's great. I'm from Shintori. It's a small town an hour outside of Taku. I've been training here in Republic City for the last few months, now I'm being transferred to Fort Pohuai. What about you?"

I look at him in confusion, silently wondering when the hell we're going to take off.

"Your backpack," he said, gesturing towards the overhead compartment. "It was military issued, right? When did you serve?"

 _Perceptive little bastard, aren't you?_ I think to myself.

"'58-'62. Fire Nation Domestic Forces."

"Ah, I see! You see any action?"

"None that I care to talk about," I say gruffly.

The kid opens his mouth to speak, but thankfully, the captain's voice comes on over the intercom.

 _ **Welcome to Northern Airlines, the Republic's premier airship transportation service. This is the 5:00 flight to Taku. Flight time will be approximately five hours, and along the way you'll be able to get a glimpse of the famous Mt. Makapu and Makapu City, former home of 'Aunt Wu the Fortuneteller' and site of Avatar Aang's impressive salvation of the city. We ask that you keep your harnesses on until flight staff say otherwise, and to let them know if you need anything. This has been Captain Nataku, and I hope you have a nice flight.**_

I groan inwardly again as my stomach lurches with the airship's ascent, and I lean back into my chair, taking a large swig of whiskey from my flask before closing my eyes.

* * *

 _I follow Sergeant Gyolar with trepidation through the bushes. It's all I can do to not squeak with anticipation- or nervousness. It's hard to tell._

 _Then, as I walk, I begin to feel anger. An anger that has simmered for years- since that night many years ago when I had woken up to see a masked man standing in her doorway, hands full of stolen goods. An anger that had lingered since he had burned me on the shoulder as I tried to fight, a night I still dreamed about._

 _Triad scum. They only bring pain into this world. And I'll do my part in making sure they were expunged from the face of the earth._

 _We near the clearing, and I can hear voices. The Sergeant raises his fist, and I stop, my eagerness barely held in check._

 _I 'm determined to do this right. I've trained for this for more than a year. I'll do my Nation, my comrades, and maybe even my family proud. I'll show them that fancy, well-to-do Rai Osada wasn't a pompous rich girl. I'll prove myself._

 _I step forward to get a closer look, eager to get started._

 _And then, I step on a brittle branch, the wood snapping loudly, forcing me to freeze in fear._

 _Sergeant Gyolar looks back at me suddenly, terror and anger filling his wizened eyes. Megumi looks petrified._

" _WE GOT COMPANY!" shouts a voice._

" _Dammit, Rookie- ATTACK!" bellows the Sergeant._

 _He's too late, though. A massive boulder careens down the hill, and we scatter as it uproots trees and snaps them in half like they were toothpicks. Then, rock-spikes and several crossbow bolts scythe through the underbrush, and we fire back, desperately blind in the chaos._

 _As I shoot fireblasts from my fists, deflecting and dodging rock spikes and bolts, my face burns in shame._

 _I've failed._

* * *

My eyes snap open as something jars the airship. Fear bolts through me; are we under attack?

"Don't worry! Just some bad weather! Don't worry! Just some bad weather!" announces a kowtowing flight attendant who walks down the passenger aisle, a beaming smile on her face that makes her look slightly psychotic.

I look outside the window, noticing rain clouds forming above our airship. I exhale shakily, sitting up and taking another swig of whiskey.

My seatmate looks at me as I sit up.

"What'd I miss?" I ask, groggily.

"Not much. We passed that volcano about three hours ago. Couldn't see much through the clouds."

I snort derisively, stretching. I notice that the kid is slightly more somber now. No doubt the realities of his new posting are catching up to him.

"What is it like?" he asks, suddenly.

I look at him blankly.

"Combat. You've seen it, right?"

I chuckle humorlessly.

"More than I'd like."

"Where'd you get that scar?"

I look at the kid, considering telling him to screw off again, but I shrug.

"Not in the Army. I was a cop in Republic City. Until a few years ago, actually. It was…"

I hesitate. Why am I telling this snot-nosed kid this story? I _never_ tell it.

 _He's what you used to be. He's just a kid. If he can learn from your mistakes…_

I sigh. I sigh a lot; it's my go to expression of stress.

"It was my second year walking the beat. We got a call about some suspicious looking guys hanging around a building on the North Side. Whale Ridge Borough. My partner and I were checking it out. We blundered into the alley, sirens on like morons. My partner barely saw them before they were on us; six foot soldiers from the Silver Sword Triad."

 _They charge at us, brandishing daggers, swords, hook-blades, weapons straight from the Hundred Years' War._

"We took out maybe half of them before they got into range. They stabbed my partner in the leg. He was a rookie- new to all of this. He didn't stand a chance, even with his earthbending skills. I took out all of them with a flame wave. All except for one."

 _Dago whimpers in pain. The last one dodges my flame blasts. His black hair, brown coat, and dual hook blades flash before my eyes as a splitting pain rips across the side of my face. I go down with a scream of pain, blood washing over my eyes. I can see him standing over me, his face impassive as he raises his sword for a death blow._

 _Sirens wail in the distance. He looks at my partner and I, his face thoughtful, before scaling the side of the building, swinging up a fire escape as police cars screech to a halt behind us._

I trace the scar with my fingers.

"What happened to your partner?" the kid asks.

"He recovered. Waterbenders fixed him right up. He quit the force a few years ago actually, is working private security for Varrick Global Industries or something, I think."

"They ever catch the guy who did that?"

I shake my head.

"Nope. We used to get reports of a nonbending mobster who uses hook swords working with the Triple Threats. His attack on us must've gotten the attention of the big leagues."

I take another swig out of my flask, and become dismayed after discovering it's empty.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," says the kid, simply.

I nod, silently. Something about this journey has summoned memories I haven't wanted to remember for a long time. It concerns me. Hell, it scares me.

* * *

By the time the tiered city comes into view, I'm just about ready to take a leap out of the window.

 _ **Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain. It is currently 11:02 in the morning. We've gotten the go-ahead to moor at the Taku Airdock. On behalf of Northern Airlines, we apologize for the delay and we hope you fly with us again. Have a good day.**_

I yawn, slinging my rucksack over my shoulder and lighting a Blue Spirit. I look up as the kid remains sitting, uncertain. I consider leaving- I really do- but he looks like a sad polar bear puppy, so I take pity.

"Look, kid. What's your name?"

"Siruk."

"Alright, Siruk. You listen to what your commander tells you. You don't take crap from anybody. And you watch your own rear before anyone else. You'll make it through alright. Oh, and make sure you find a good bar nearby. Drinking is about the only solace you'll find as a soldier."

His face actually brightens with this lecture, and it takes a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes. I extend my hand, and he clasps it uncertainly, shaking it.

"You ever need someone to spy on anyone or any other dirty crap like that, give me a call. Ask for Rai Osada."

He smiles uncertainty, as if unsure if I'm joking. I'm not. Not _really_ , at least.

"I'll do that."

I grin, and inhale the crisp mountain air of Taku gladly as I exit the sweaty interior of the airship.

The city of Taku resembles a giant cone wedged between two large cliffs. People say that the city had been razed by the Fire Nation at the beginning of the Great War, but you wouldn't be able to tell it by looking. Taku is a sprawling metropolis now. Cramped tenements rub shoulders with factories and flashing neon signs advertising just about every sort of debauchery imaginable. Smoke pours from a hundred chimneys, and blocky whitish buildings sprout from about any surface imaginable.

People say the city is a nicer version of Republic City. Only about a dozen people die a day here from crime, according to some pamphlets. Most say it's because there's not a whole lot to do here. The Herbal Institute at the top of the cone is the city's most notable feature, the museums probably being the second most notable.

I make my way through the airdock, and I pass a crowd of people yelling angrily as a man with a loudspeaker and a poster of a familiar masked freedom fighter shouts indignantly.

"Brothers and Sisters, tell me this: how many of you have lost someone to a _bender_?"

A flurry of hands go up, and I can't help but linger at the periphery, watching intently.

"Too many. Since the dawn of time, benders have oppressed nonbenders in pursuit of domination and power. How many times must we suffer this malady? It was _benders_ like Chin the _Great_ who conquered the Earth Kingdom and put thousands to the rock. _Benders_ like Firelord Sozin conquered us and banished our freedoms! Even now, in the Si Wong Desert, sand _benders_ slaughter each other by the thousands while the _bending_ militaries stand by and do _nothing_. _Bending_ mobsters and _bending_ fascists kill us every day, and what do we do? We stand by, toiling in factories and stores to serve them!"

Boos fill the plaza.

"I say this, my fellow citizens. We have worked too long to serve those who think they are stronger than us. We have been second-class citizens for too long. When we came to the United Republic, we came in search of a place where class, gender, Nation, and belief were irrelevant. Instead, we became slaves. Amon offers you the answer. With Amon and the Equalists, all can be changed. With Amon leading us, we will overturn the bending establishment and rule _them_ for a change. For every one of them, there are ten of us. Join the Equalists and restore the balance of power to where it _ought_ to be!"

The crowd has swelled now to over a hundred, and airdock security officers mill around the edges of the plaza uneasily. For a moment, I swear the Equalist makes eye contact with me, but the crowd of disembarking travellers swallows me up, and I melt back into the crowd, dread filling my stomach.

I knew the Equalists were popular, even in Republic City, but they almost seem stronger here. And if this Napua is one of them, supplying them… I get a bad a feeling. I hail a cab and bundle myself in as a light rain begins to fall.

"Onyx Blossom Hotel," I say.

The cabbie nods, screeching away. He glances back at my nervous expression, then at the crowd.

"Damned Equalists. They're good for nothing, I tell ya."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"I tell ya, I'm a nonbender, and neither me nor mine go anywhere near those crazies. Sure, I agree with _some_ of what they're sayin', but they're goin' about it the wrong way, if you ask me."

I nod silently, watching the narrow streets ringed by tall buildings whiz by.

"You're Fire Nation, yeah?"

I look at the cabbie, startled.

"How'd you know?"

The burly cabbie taps his ear, winking as he narrowly avoids colliding with a streetcar.

"You got a bit of an accent, ma'am. Oh, ya hide it better than most. I've got an ear for accents, see. First listen, I'd think Republic City, but the Fire Nation comes out a little underneath."

I laugh lightly, strangely comforted by this complete stranger.

"Always liked the Fire Nation. You guys make the best red stuff."

* * *

By the time I walk into the Onyx Blossom, it's pouring out, and I make my way to the front desk soaked thoroughly.

"Can I help you?" asks an attractive front desk worker in a slinky black dress.

I smile broadly, fixing my hair as best I can.

"I need the room across from 322."

"Room 323 is reserved, unfortunately."

I nod, slipping 200 yuans across the desk without a word. The receptionist looks at it with surprise for a moment. Then, looking around nervously, she takes it, tucking it under her desk. She takes out a folder, shuffling through it, then writes something on one of the pages.

"Ah, looks like you're in luck. That room just became available, Mrs…"

I look at her directly, smiling.

"It's Miss. And its Akane."

The receptionist rings a bell, and a valet appears, taking my sopping wet rucksack with a bow.

"If you need anything, be sure to call down-"

"When does your shift end?" I ask with a playful smile.

The receptionist blushes deeply.

"I-well… I couldn't, I mean-" she splutters.

I wink.

"You know where to find me if you change you mind."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **As always, I welcome feedback! Thanks for your support and reviews, and yes, I have been reading the new comics and keeping an eye on the upcoming ones!**

 **-IGdude117**


	11. Chapter 11: Trouble in Taku

" _ **Look, all I know is Avatar Aang meant for this city to be the center of peace and balance in the world, and I believe we can make his dream a reality. I look forward to serving you.**_

 _ **I'm so happy to be here. Thank you, Republic City!"**_

 _ **For those of you just tuning in, that was Avatar Korra of the Southern Water Tribe giving an address in front of City Hall. Incidents involving the Avatar, the Police Department, and mobsters from the Triple Threat Triad have thus far been unconfirmed by authorities. I've been Kiho Kareem, and you've been listening to 23.5, Republic City Radio. Stay tuned for Shiro Shinobi and the newest developments in-**_

I turn off the radio with a yawn, my eye still rooted to the peephole on my door. Since my arrival a couple of days ago, Napua has stayed in her room, unfortunately for me, and I've become steadily less energetic than my usually downright _enthusiastic_ self.

I sip at my tea again.

 _So- the Avatar has finally popped her head above the ice,_ I think to myself. I was beginning to think she didn't exist. A lot of people were. I knew she existed, of course. I heard the same public declaration from the Order of the White Lotus that everyone else did- that the new Avatar had been discovered in the Southern Water Tribe, and was a "bending prodigy", whatever the hell that means.

It's hard not to be skeptical. This southern rube comes north to Republic City, knocks a few Triads around, then believes she can fix the city, just like that? I guess decades of cops and " _good people"_ such as myself have just been twiddling our thumbs, then. I wish her luck, I really do. If anyone can pull off a crusade like that, it'd be the damned Avatar, but… well, I ain't holding my breath.

For as long as I can remember, there's been crime. "Peace" is a relative concept. Peace means the absence of a declared war. But for the rest of us average Lees, Peace means gang killings, crime, collateral damage, and scraping together a living in a world that wouldn't take a second look at you dying on the street. My mark's door opens, and I see the reporter, in a blue coat, walking out and locking the door behind her. I wait for to the count of ten, shrugging my coat on in the meantime, before following her.

As we exit the Onyx Blossom, I can already tell there's something… off. About the whole city. There's an eerie silence.

No, there's a sound. A dull roaring, like an ocean. The sounds of thousands of voices chattering in excited frustration.

Napua takes a sharp left down the street, and I follow at a generous distance, ducking behind doorways and alleys every now and then. As I tail her, I see a few pedestrians with terrified looks on their faces running in the opposite direction- not a great boost to my confidence.

I feel a sense of dread settling within me, and this is confirmed when we turn onto one of the main streets of Taku.

What I see can only be described as pure, unadulterated chaos. A massive crowd takes up the majority of the street, moving towards Napua and, by association, me. Signs, torches, and industrial tools are all waved in the air angrily with a thousand banners emblazoned with the character for "Equal" stark against the red background. Almost as frequent are stylized stencils of a masked man whose eyes seem to follow me with a menacing intent.

 _DOWN WITH BENDERS! DOWN WITH BENDERS! WE WANT EQUALITY NOW!_

The commotion is deafening, and I blend into the crowd of terrified onlookers, trying to keep my eye on Napua.

The mob passes by like a giant whale-walrus, and I can't help but feel a pang of fear. Are there really this many people who hate benders? There must be at least a thousand people in the mob, and that's just in Taku. What about Republic City? The rest of the Republic? The rest of the _world_?

 _ **WHEN WE ARE UNDER ATTACK, WHAT DO WE DO?!**_ bellows the Equalist I saw yesterday into a loudspeaker as he passes by.

 _STAND UP, FIGHT BACK! STAND UP, FIGHT BACK!_ responds the crowd.

I look in the direction they're going- presumably towards the government district near the top of Taku- and the dread intensifies as I see the cordon of beat cops part like stalks of wheat before a farmer. Two armored vehicles proudly displaying the symbol of the United Republic lurch forward with clanking treads and clouds of steam, disgorging squads of United Forces soldiers. Two trucks with large water basins also approach the police cordon, and I grimace, keeping my eye on Napua, who seems to have stopped.

An United Forces officer with a beret walks through the regimented squads of Earth and Waterbenders, wielding a loudspeaker himself.

 _ **ATTENTION. BY ORDER OF THE TAKU POLICE DEPARTMENT AND THE PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT, I HEREBY DECLARE THIS TO BE AN UNLAWFUL ASSEMBLY.**_

The forty or so armored riot troopers fan out in a tight formation, with large metal riot shields forming an impenetrable wall. With a loud shout, they begin to move forward as one entity, with another fifty police officers following close behind.

 _ **ALL CITIZENS ARE ORDERED TO DISPERSE. YOU MUST LEAVE THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY. IF YOU REMAIN, YOU WILL BE IN VIOLATION OF THE TAKU MUNICIPAL CODE. ALL THOSE WHO DO NOT DISPERSE WILL BE SUBJECT TO ARREST AND RIOT CONTROL MEASURES.**_

The onlooking crowd begins to falter, but astonishingly, the protesters remains steadfast in their march. I glance at Napua, several feet away, but her gaze is fixed on the scene, as are many others.

 _WHEN WE ARE UNDER ATTACK, WHAT DO WE DO?_

 _STAND UP. FIGHT BACK. STAND UP. FIGHT BACK. STAND UP. FIGHT BACK._

 _ **THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. DISPERSE. DISPERSE.**_ the officer responds.

The tense resignation in his voice terrifies me; it means that this shitshow is about to turn very ugly. I edge away. I know what's about to happen; I saw it in the Fire Nation, I saw it in Republic City, and now I'm seeing it again here. I watch the United Forces officer shake his head, nodding to his second-in-command.

" _WATERBENDERS!"_

As fifteen blue-uniformed figures disengage from the wall of soldiers and police officers, I find myself almost respecting the Equalist protesters. I don't like them, given how much they hate me and most of the people I know, but they're stubborn and willing to take a stand. I can't say the same about a lot of people.

But stubborn fanatics are still dangerous.

When the streams of high-velocity water hit the crowd, it knocks them over by the dozens. I see men and women thrown off their feet, skidding across the cold pavement as the punishing streams of water smash into them. The water is relentless, pressing them into the ground, and soon it strays into the onlookers. I narrowly avoid a stream as I jump into a doorway, my heart pounding.

And then, the streams stop. It looks like dozens of protesters have been knocked down, most probably sport minor injuries. Some pick themselves up, others help those beside them.

 _ **DISPERSE. DISPERSE.**_

A lone voice calls out from the protesters, defiant.

"When we... are attacked, what... do we do?"

The reply is thunderous. It would be an inspiring sight, but I know what comes next. I unravel my scarf, tying it closely around my mouth and nose.

 _STAND UP. FIGHT BACK._

When the arcing containers of blinder-gas land in the crowd, they detonate in puffs of red smoke. I close my eyes as I stumble towards Napua's dim outline. As the gas washes over the unprepared crowd, my eyes snap shut involuntarily as a burning sensation envelops them completely. My throat spasms and I cough violently, hunching over as I continue my purposeful stagger towards my mark.

My skin burns now, and rippling pain washes across my throat, eyes, nose, and mouth repeatedly as I hack myself to death. I can hear screams and others coughing around me as I bump into people, too consumed by pain to care. My boot crunches on what is unmistakably a human hand, but the pain leads me to press onward, uncaring. When I finally stumble into fresh air, blinking repeatedly as my body screams at me to curl up and not move, I feel myself start to breath. I fight the instinct to rub my eyes, allowing the slight breeze to wash over my skin.

Admittedly, this was a lot worse than when they blinder-gassed us in the Police Academy, except then, I had water and no mark to follow.

I look around in fear upon this last thought, and I realize that I have no idea where I am. As a light snow begins to fall around me, I look up, allowing the no-doubt pollutant-streaked snow to melt in my eyes, soothing the gas' sting slightly.

When I hear the splash of a boot hitting a puddle, I turn around slowly, with no small amount of trepidation.

A man stands before me, dressed in a green and maroon tunic, with a mask with glowing green eyes that stare at me blankly. He stands limp, but I can see intense, inherent energy simmering beneath his casual posture.

"Can I h-help you?" I cough, my throat still raw.

"You shouldn't poke your nose where it's not welcome," the man says simply.

When he attacks, lunging forward with outstretched arms, I'm taken off guard. His hands make contact with my leg, jabbing and punching in precise, measured movements that make my leg go numb. I stagger back, trying to send a front kick of fire towards my assailant.

When nothing emits from my foot, panic shoots through me.

 _Damn. A chi blocker._

I block his next jabs, aimed at my chest, and I swipe my elbow towards his face, sending a scythe of flames roaring where his face had, several seconds earlier, been.

When the small but lethal _bolas_ swing towards me, the heavy metal spheres making a lethal-sounding _fwoosh_ sound, I'm in full retreat, throwing punches and swipes desperately. They're clumsy and fearful, and he knows it. Fatigue begins to tug at my limbs as I butterfly kick a roiling wave of fire towards the chi blocker. When the flames make contact, throwing him back with a kinetic force, I grin victoriously, blinking through the tears of the residual gas.

I move forward, my arms held close to my body, and begin firing small blasts of convulsing flame towards the chi blocker, who leaps to his feet as my first blasts arrive, dodging them easily. I perform a spinning kick, skidding slightly on the forming ice, but the chi blocker dives beneath the arc of fire, hopping lightly to his feet directly in front of me. As he moves to attack, his flattened hand aiming for my shoulder, I act instinctively.

My knee slams into his groin rapidly, and the chi blocker goes down to the ground in a heap with a grunt of pain, convulsing as he holds his crotch, shivering in immense pain. I turn to leave, eager to leave the fight behind, then pause.

The chi blocker is well equipped. Not an average street thug. The logical conclusion would be that he was sent to kill me, which would make him an Equalist; one of Amon's minions. Perhaps my quarry only knew she was being followed, not _who_ was following. After all, my shoddy flight from her apartment wasn't exactly subtle.

I look back at him. The glowing eyes look around, almost in pain as the chi blocker writhes on the ground.

 _If he tells them who you are, they'll come for you. You'll be made. You'll lose the money, the job, and most importantly, your life. They'll kill you. They've probably done it before._

I stand over the chi blocker, whose hand comes up towards me. A silent plea for mercy.

 _He's a bad guy. How many benders do you think he's killed or wounded? It's kill or be killed. Finish it._ _Or is he just fighting for what he believes in? Fighting for a cause that, let's be honest, has some validity?_

Then, my mind flashes back to the warehouse, with Vinh. The water filling my lungs, my eyes bulging, my throat gasping for air and only finding frigid, painful water. Lingering for so long at the edge of death, the darkness gesturing for me to embrace it.

I don't want to die.

I shake my head rapidly, holding it with my right hand, and run in the opposite direction, leaving the pained chi blocker in the alley behind me. I've killed enough people to fill the pages of a small novel with their names. At a certain point, it has to stop.

I run down the street, hoping that I haven't just signed my own death warrant.

* * *

I wake up around the time the train pulls into Central Station, a pounding headache from the flask full of Baiju I had slammed when I boarded in the first place splitting my head in two. The water I treated myself with from the train station was seemingly continuing to do its work, but my body still aches from the ordeal. My leg is still numb, as well. I could have gone to a hospital, I suppose, but the hospital was likely going to be swarming with both cops and patients. I, at least, knew what I had in store from the blinder-gas.

I shoulder my pack groggily, rubbing my eyes, and step back into the chilly, damp air of Republic City once more with a groan. I place a Blue Spirit between my lips, lighting a flame in my palm to light it.

My hand is still shaking. So much for nerves of steel, huh?

I linger next to the statue of Firelord Zuko, looking at the line of parked cars as the cigarette smoke forms clouds in the frigid air. When I see the gray Satomobile, with a familiar figure wearing a heavy, light blue coat, I let out a soft sigh of relief, walking towards the Satomobile. He looks at me as I approach with a mixture of stern rebuke and concern as I approach.

"Spirits. What'd you do? Wrestle a sea-serpent?" Tak asks, his face serious.

For some reason, I get the urge to hug him. So I do, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his shoulder. When the tears begin to pour out, I think we're both surprised. I feel his arms return the gesture, and we stand there for a time in the cold, holding each other.

When I pull away, his face is grim.

"Here. Get in the Satomobile. We'll head back to your place, and I'll heal you up."

I nod numbly, feeling desolate. The inside of the vehicle is warmer than the outside, and Tak gets in the driver side quickly, peeling away from the station.

"What… what happened to you, Rai?"

I hold my forehead, looking at my feet as I blow out another cloud of smoke.

"I went to Taku. Following a lead. They were… Spirits, Tak, it was like a warzone up there. The United Forces blasted them with water, then gassed them. I got caught in the middle of it like a damn dunderhead. I managed to get away, and… I got attacked."

"By who?"

"A chi blocker. I think he was an Equalist. I managed to hold him off, but… Gods. I almost… I almost _wanted_ to… to…"

I expel a shaky breath, wiping away more tears.

"He almost got me. He was better than I am. It was a dirty trick that won. And when it was over…"

"Hey," Tak says, quietly.

"Just breathe, Rai. In and out. You're safe now."

I snort sardonically.

"You know that's not true. Not for any of us."

Tak says nothing as he drives, and I stare out at the passing buildings, my forehead against the cold, frosted glass.

* * *

The smell of rich, juicy meat fills my nose as Tak brings out the dish he's toiled over for the last hour. He slides a bowl of thick green noodles, large slabs of meat, boiled eggs, and seaweed in front of me, digging into his own. My hand goes to the bandage on my leg instinctively, and Tak shoots me a glance.

"Now, you wouldn't want to ruin the substantial amount of work I did to heal you up, would you?"

I smirk, slurping at the noodles and relishing the full, rich taste.

"Spirits, Tak. This is _good_. Could use some spice, though."

He laughs.

"You Fire Nation types. Always trying to put spices in everything. My people have made great culinary strides _without_ the help of spices, you know."

I chuckle.

"Yeah, that's why we invaded you back in the day. Culinary jealousy."

We laugh, and continue eating. I can see he's avoiding asking me the questions he wants to ask. We've been friends long enough for him to have figured out that I only talk when I'm ready.

"You hear the news, by the way?" Tak asks.

"What?"

"Avatar Korra joined the Fire Ferrets. She's a permanent player now. Helped 'em beat the Platypus Bears in the last round."

"Is that even legal? I can't believe the Ref didn't throw her out."

Tak shrugs.

"No, they ruled that as long as she stuck to waterbending and didn't use the Avatar State, she could play."

I laugh derisively.

"Is this the same Avatar that stated on national radio that she'd clean the streets of the Triads and Equalists?"

Tak chuckles. "Ah, she's just a kid, Rai. I doubt she even knows what she's doing."

"Yeah, excuse me if that's not a comfort. You want a drink?"

"What do you got?"

"Whiskey. I think I've got a couple beers hidden away somewhere."

"I'll take a whiskey."

I nod, making the drinks quickly and sliding the glass across the table. I down my glass in a single gulp, grimacing as the booze burns its way down my already-tender throat.

There's a silence between us.

"World's going to hell," I say after some time. I'm not sure what else to say.

"World's been going to hell for a long time. That's not liable to change anytime soon," he replies ruefully.

I shake my head.

"It's worse. Trust me. I've seen more than a few riots in my day. Hell, we both made it through the Tax Riots of '64. It was worse than that."

"We were on opposite sides of that one, if I recall."

I smirk with the memory, but the smile fades.

"What do you think about them?" I ask, suddenly.

"Who?"

"The Equalists."

Tak sighs, swirling the whiskey around in his glass.

"I don't know. They're trouble. That's all anyone thinks about them. But sometimes... I don't know, I can't help but feel that maybe they're right."

"What do you mean, they're _right_?"

Tak shrugs.

"Look. As much as I hated the Southern Water Tribe, things there were… different. Most of us were benders, sure, but those that weren't were still, well, part of the tribe. If you didn't bend, chances were you hunted, fished, built, or one of a thousand different jobs. Even with the modern facilities. Here… damn, Rai, even you have to admit, benders treat nonbenders like pond scum when they're feeling kindly about things. Between Triads, the Council, the coppers, the corporations… it's hard living if you can't bend one of the big three. Half of my customers complain about the status quo, and I shut up and pour their drinks so as not to start trouble. I don't like the Equalists, but judging by what you saw in Taku, they've got a lot of support- here especially"

I laugh sarcastically.

"Hell of a motivational speaker, ain't you?"

He shrugs with a grin. "Hey, I just tell it like I see it."

"So what do we do? When the masked freak decides to make his move?"

Tak finishes his whiskey with a gulp, grimacing.

"We hunker down and survive. Like we've always done."

I smile, ignoring the rising sense of disquiet in my chest.

"And here I was thinking there was a plan."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey everyone! Sorry about the long absence. A mixture of the same old cocktail of school, work, and personal projects, paired with my basically avoiding this website like the plague during the hacks last month meant I haven't really spent all that much time here.**

 **I am currently working on the next chapter, but I've got Finals and then probably a Christmas break full of work, so I may or may not get a chapter out before the new year.**

 **If you decide to move on, I totally understand, and I thank you for reading as much as you did.**

 **If you're sticking around, I really appreciate it, and hopefully I can get some more chapters out to you relatively soon!**

 **-IGdude117**


	12. Chapter 12: The Woman

City Hall; a gleaming bastion of jade, ivory, and gold. A shimmering beacon of hope in the grandiose symbol of progress that is Republic City. Home to the political machinery that keeps the United Republic one of the most prosperous Nations in the world. Of course, said political machinery usually consists of unending bickering and infighting within the Council, and a generally uplifting sense of bureaucratic stagnation and corruption permeating the whole place.

So, you know, _progress_.

I sigh dejectedly and take a long drag from my Blue Spirit, letting the pungent smoke fill my lungs and give a buzz while I sit in the chilly air, watching couples walking their Goat-Dogs.

It's funny; most people from the Fire Nation smoke Painted Ladies. Blue Spirits are usually for the Earth Kingdom and United Republic. I've heard it said that any good Earthbender ought to smoke Blue Spirits so as to remind the Fire Nation that the specter that once haunted their troops could still be around.

Then again, I'm not an Earthbender, so it's all really a moot point, and I don't have any particular quandaries with any government in particular besides my general sense of distrust. The truth is, I smoke Blue Spirits because they're cheap; I smoked them when I was a cop struggling to make ends meet, and the habit sort of stuck. That and the drinking, of course; after all, it's much cheaper to blow money on booze than it is to buy time with a shrink.

By the time the Man in the Black Suit sits beside me, I'm already unraveling with boredom.

"I trust you have some developments?" he asks, in a stiff, clipped tone.

I hand over the parcel. He opens it, removing the stacks of photos I've taken. One is a blurry picture of Napua in Boulder Park with the Gray Coated Man. The other is of her slipping around a corner in Taku, with several pages of admittedly sloppily-written notes and conjectures. The Man in the Black Suit peruses my notes, and his expression turns rapidly into one of surprise and concern.

"Miss Osada… this is... garbage. _Equalists_? A conspiracy? Judging by this, I'd say _you_ were the one who was caught flying from Napua's apartment building a week ago. This is _not_ what my employer is paying you for, Miss Osada. We need _evidence_ of a scandal. Have you even deigned to _ruminate_ on Miss Napua's _reasons_ for smearing my employer's name through the mud?"

I roll my eyes.

"Like I said, I believe Napua to be involved with the Equalists in some capacity. Councilman Tarrlok is very vocal _against_ Equalism, and quite frankly represents the height of the "bending elite" that Amon and his followers rail against."

My client's face whitens.

"W-Who said anything a-about Councilman…"

"Spare the intrigue. Look, I've encountered evidence that she's involved with the Equalists. I'd say that's more than enough probable cause for your employer to order Beifong and the Republic City Police Department to search her home and ruin her reputation. I'd like my money."

"We didn't _pay_ you to start a full blown conspiracy investigation, Miss Osada. We paid you for dirt. Clean and simple. And if you can't deliver…"

"I'm _not_ a gossip journalist, you pencilneck. I want the money you signed a contract to deliver, or I'll be sure to spread word of your boss' shady exploits across the city."

The man's face darkens.

"You _don't_ want to make an enemy out of my employer, Miss Osada," he says, crisply.

We stare at each other with virulent hostility for a while, then he shakes his head in frustration, giving in.

"Fine. But we will only dispense half our response, lest you force us to report _your_ misdoings- association with Triads, for instance- to the police."

I glare at him.

"Are you following me?"

"No. But we have connections, just as you do. Here is half the sum. You'll get the other half when you have _concrete_ proof of wrongdoing. Good day."

He presses the envelope of cash into my hand and storms away with the package of evidence. In my anger, I'm half tempted to storm after him, but I become conscious of the fact that we're in the middle of a largely empty park, and decide against it, especially as two muscle-bound guards pull up in a satomobile, letting the Man in the Black Suit in before flashing me hostile stares.

"Damn you and damn Councilman Tarrlok!" I shout as I walk away, fuming.

* * *

I walk into the Stinging Shirshu, grateful at the blast of warm air and loud music that envelops me as I enter. I glance at the bar, hoping to see Tak, but I only see Marwan, the other bartender. I take my usual seat at the bar, and Marwan sidles over nervously.

"Oh, hey, Ms. Osada. The usual?"

"Make it a double," I say, miserably.

I sit down, perusing my notebook as the dark shroud of misery and defeat begins to weigh me down. I can't help but wonder what the point of all of this is. Since Napua gave me the slip and probably saw me, I haven't heard a single thing, even having asked Skoochy and other power players for tips. My quarry seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

I sigh, breathing out smoke from my Blue Spirit as Marwan slides a glass of Fire Whiskey my way. I down it in a gulp, and put another bill on the bar, looking like Marwan intently. The man sighs, fixing another glass.

"Just do me a favor and don't puke all over the bar again, wouldya?"

I down the next shot and the alcohol goes straight to my head.

"No promises, Marwan."

I suppress my inner voice of doubt as I commit to drinking myself into a stupor, hoping to stave off the inevitable bout of depression as long as I can.

* * *

 _The graveyard is silent as a cold, rasping wind blows down from the mountains in the distance. The seven markers are polished obelisks in the field of worn, aged markers. Wreaths of fire lilies are all that remain of the seven other members of her platoon._

 _Megumi is silent, her forehead still wrapped from the vicious sword cut that narrowly missed ending her life. Her stump of a leg is a bigger source for concern. The doctors had advised against her attendance, but her single minded determination to attend had swayed them in the end. My arm and leg are both bandaged heavily from the myriad of wounds I received. Yet those, in time, will heal. The wounds in my mind are still fresh._

 _The looks of my fellow cadets' parents boring into the back of my head haunts me. They blame me for living when their children did not. They don't even know that I am directly responsible for their deaths._

" _Where are you going to go?"_

 _I stare at Sergeant Gyolar's gravestone. He had been the veteran of a hundred operations and skirmishes. He had survived the First Triad War and even the Pirate Pacification Campaign of '28. And she had killed him._

" _Central City. Command wants me there for the rest of my service period."_

" _Wow, the Capital. That's a hell of a post."_

" _Maybe," I say, dispassionately. "You?"_

" _Ember Island," she grins. "Rehabilitation. The Domestic Forces have their very own facility there. Fire healers, masseurs, physical therapists, and doctors. I get paid to go on vacation, pretty much."_

 _I nod solemnly, and my friend's smile fades gradually._

 _"You remember back home, in the old days? You and I stealing sweets from Mr. Chao's store and diving in the fire fountain when he chased us? Our 'Probending' matches after school? I miss those days a lot. I've been thinking about them in the hospital. They make me smile," she says._

 _"Me, too. But that was a long time ago. There's not a whole lot that makes me smile these days."_

 _Megumi looks at me._

" _It wasn't your fault, Rai. You know that, right? It was a simple mistake. It could have happened to any of us. Their deaths aren't on you."_

" _I wish I believed you. But I don't."_

 _I wipe away the tears, and I grasp her hand._

" _Good luck in Ember Island. I'll see you when I see you."_

 _I walk away in a haze, ignoring Megumi's pleas. Seven good men and women are dead because of me. I don't deserve help; I don't deserve to recover. I deserve to die._

* * *

I wake up in a familiar room to the sensation of a herd of Komodo Rhinos trampling around my brain. I hold it with a groan of pain, wincing as my throbbing hangover sends waves of radiating, dull pain through my body. I feel the nausea rising in my stomach and I sprint into the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet, retching until my stomach feels empty. It makes me feel only marginally better, and I collapse onto the floor with a moan of self-pitying regret and actual pain.

The door to what I recognize as the spare bedroom in the Stinging Shirshu opens, and Tak looks at me with some combination of disappointment and pity.

"What?!" I ask, angrily.

"Rai, you can't keep doing this. You'll kill yourself; you _need_ to get help. I know I haven't helped much by helping you maintain this habit, but this time it's gone too far. If you keep drinking yourself to death every time something goes south on you, you'll die. I've seen it happen."

I clamber to my feet, my ire rising instinctively.

"I didn't ask you to help me, alright? You could have just thrown me out on the street. In fact, I'll do it for you. I'll leave."

" _Rai_. You need to get help. I can call Lee, and we can help you-"

" _I don't need_ my brother. I need to be alone, Tak. It's my life, I'll do what I want with it. You're not my goddamn family, so leave me the hell alone, would you?"

As I say it, I can tell I've hurt him, and regret replaces the anger. I look away, grabbing my coat, and slip out of the room wordlessly. As I begin walking down the stairs back down to the bar, I pause for a moment, wondering if I should apologize, or even accept his offer, like part of me wants to.

 _You don't have time for that. You need to solve this case; no matter what it takes._

I push through the temptation and leave the bar as quickly as I can, trying to ignore the guilt that seems to pull me back to one of my only remaining friends.

* * *

As the train jostles on its way to the Probending Arena, I look at my notebook dejectedly, my headache still persisting somewhat in spite of the copious amounts of water I've consumed.

A reporter who, suddenly, is able to convince her editor to let her run anti-bending articles defaming and criticizing the Council meets with a mysterious man in a gray coat in Boulder Park. A reporter who, despite not having a record of anti-bender sentiment, is clearly in league with the Equalists, judging by a cryptic note, whose transcription I read with increasing confusion.

 _ **You've done well. Preparations are nearing completion. Continue undercover assignment. Equalists should be encouraged to succeed. Will pave the way for HC. Destabilization of URN essential for future plans. More funds to follow.**_

 _ **-Freedom**_

Who is Freedom? Is it the Man in the Gray Coat, or is it some shadowy Equalist operative? Could it be Amon, even? And what does "H.C." stand for?

Yet my final question- _Who is Napua-_ is almost more concerning. If my time investigating her has taught me anything, it's that Napua is as normal a person as you will meet. No criminal record, a satisfactory performance at her job, vague educational records… and, apparently, a job as an Equalist operative.

Yet apparently, this is not satisfying to my employer. I close the book in frustration, shoving my hands back into my trench coat. I keep going around in circles, and I can't find any trace of where she is past Taku. I need a lead, and I need it badly; my money, even after my partial payment, won't last as long as I need it to.

" _This is the last stop on this line, Arena Station,"_ the intercom crackles.

I stand with the avid Probender fans riding this line, and get out with the queue, trying to forget the case for a while. I'm paying a fair bit of money for these tickets in a last-ditch effort to retain some measure of my sanity.

I leave the chilly snow outside for the relative balmy warmth of the Probending arena gladly, finding a seat towards the back as the massive stadium fills up quickly, the feeling of anticipation building. I haven't been paying much attention to Probending lately, with, you know, the case I'm working on, but even I know this is a pretty big one leading into the end of the season.

As the press of the crowd on either side of me begins to make me feel uncomfortable, I reach for my pocket flask only to feel its desolating emptiness with despair. I look at the thin man to my right who seems to abhor social contact aside from the mildly attractive man beside him- his only reason for leaving the safety of his home. I shake my head, looking at the woman to my left who has a well-hidden eating disorder.

The incessant chatter ceases when the two teams line up on the pitch; the Future Industries Fire Ferrets on one side, the Bau Ling Buzzard Wasps on the other. I can see the Avatar somewhat clearly, even from this far back; it's the first time I've seen her. She strikes me as a stubborn and hot headed teenager; not that there's ever been a teenager who has been anything _but_ stubborn and hot headed.

Shiro Shinobi's distinctive voice rings out in the stadium as fans cheer their respective teams on. For me, I have money on the Buzzard Wasps with another private detective operating out of the Dragon Flats District, but I'm just here to see the Avatar in action.

" _ **You can't find two teams more evenly matched in age, size, and strength than the Fire Ferrets and Buzzard Wasps- believe me, I've looked! This should be a pulse-pounding semi-final, folks,"**_ his voice rings out.

With the ring of the bell, the Buzzard Wasps seize the initiative, assaulting the Fire Ferrets with a ferocity that is altogether entertaining in a Probending match.

The round goes quickly as the Fire Ferrets are pushed back, zone by zone, until the bell rings opportunistically, saving my wallet from getting 30 yuans heavier. The round ends, and I sigh, standing and shimmying my way through the aisle to find some alcohol.

I enter the audience concourse, passing by kiosks and stalls selling vastly overpriced stock before I recognize two trench-coated men, one squat and one gangly, standing in line at a small bar stall.

"Lu, Gang- you two arseheads still kicking?"

The two possibly most obnoxious detectives I've ever had the displeasure of knowing turn, smirking as they nurse beers to their chests.

"Is that Rai? Spirits, how are you not in prison yet? I hear you're more criminal than cop now," Lu says sarcastically.

I resist the urge to punch the smug bastard in his ugly mug, forcing a smile on my face.

"What are you two up to now? Still slumming it in Transit?"

"Naw. Beifong moved us up to Central, where we belong. Working a Vice case right now," Gang says, stuffing a doughnut in his mouth with gusto.

"Guess I have you two to thank for my increase in jobs, huh?"

The two give me a rude hand gesture, and I wave them away, shaking my head as I walk aimlessly, listening to the crowd cheering and groaning as the match progresses in the arena.

" _ **Which reminds me, this match is brought to you by our sponsor, Flameo Instant Noodles! Noodliest noodles in the United Republic,"**_ Shinobi seems to interject.

As I walk, my head whirls suddenly as my ears pick up on a familiar voice to my right.

"Aw, aren't you just _sweet_. I'm going to go freshen up a bit, then we can get out of here," says a sleek voice.

I get in line at the nearest kiosk, trying my best to hide in the collar of my coat, my ears trained on the voice. It's source enters my field of view soon enough, and I immediately recognize her. The coppery skin, the piercing green eyes, the graceful, enigmatic walk and poise. She enters the bathroom and I follow her at a distance, keeping my face obscured.

Luckily, the bathroom is mostly vacant, and I falter at a sink, pretending to fix my minimal makeup as she walks towards the stalls. Then, she pauses.

"I thought that was you," she says, her voice bemused.

I straighten, abandoning the attempt at subtlety.

"You changed your hair. It looks good down."

Jasha turns around, smiling at me. Even with the fact that she set me up and allowed a psychotic, vengeance-obsessed Terra Triad kidnap and torture me, she still takes my breath away.

I watch her posture ease into one of relaxation, but one underscored by the potential for violence.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she replies. "You know, for what it's worth, I was glad when I heard that Vinh didn't manage to kill you. I liked you, but you know how it is. Work before love."

"Oh, sure. I had a lovely time getting drowned and revived over and over again. Say what you will about waterbenders, they know how to have a great torture session."

"So, what do you want from me, Miss Osada? Payback?" she asks coyly, moving towards the door. I shift to block her escape.

"No, but-"

Contrary to my expectation, it's Jasha who makes the first move, and before I know it, a long, cool blade is pressed gently against my throat as she pins me against the wall. Disregarding the fact that there's a razor-sharp blade pressed to my windpipe, it's more than a little exciting for my screwed-up sense of sexual norms.

"It won't go well for you, Detective. I may have been honeypotting you, but I still grew up in the desert cities. Things there aren't exactly peachy."

"I don't doubt it. But I don't want payback, Jasha."

"What then?" she asks, sharply. All facade of the sensually deadly woman is gone, replaced by an even deadlier, determined woman.

"Your help."

* * *

"The Arena" is a pretty good bar, but after matches, it's downright intolerable. The bar is full of post-match speculation by batteries of avid fans whose claims to Probending knowledge ends at having once played it in school.

Yet the commotion here actually helps us in this case, and we find an isolated booth in the back of the bar, ordering some food and drinks to tide us through negotiations. Jasha holds her forehead in stress, a jade cigarette holder smoldering slightly, wisps of smoke curling towards the solitary light above the booth like tentacles.

"This is crazy, Rai. Crazier than last time. So this journalist- this Napua figure- is secretly undermining bender and non-bender relations to pave the way for an Equalist takeover? You know how ridiculous that sounds?"

I take a swig of beer, shaking my head.

" _Does_ it? Think about it. The shady meeting, the cryptic note, my getting attacked by an Equalist- they're planning a big move, and it's coming soon, and Napua has _something_ to do with it. People don't just disappear like that."

"And that's what you need my help with? Finding this rogue journalist? Why don't you ask Omo? Or your friend in the cops?"

"Jasha, this woman, whoever she really is, is obviously a player. She knows how to game the system, and she knows how to disappear. I would ask them if I could, but they _are_ the system. You're the only person who can help me with this."

She looks at me skeptically.

"Why do you care so much about this? Just drop the case. Go back to taking pictures of cheating spouses or whatever it is you usually do. It sounds like you're getting mixed up in things you don't want to get mixed up in, just like last time."

"If this was last time, wouldn't you be seducing me right about now to lead me into a trap of some sort?" I grin.

She laughs.

"I suppose so."

She takes another drag of her cigarette- an Old Iron, by the smell of it- and stares at her empty plate, thinking. I grind my Blue Spirit into the ashtray at the edge of the table, discarding the stub.

"60% of the take."

I scoff.

"60%? Are you crazy? I'd be generous to give you 20%."

"55," she challenges.

"45%."

"50%."

I sigh, smiling as I stand.

"Fine. Let me know when you have something. And don't kill anyone, wouldya?"

She smirks as I leave, but I feel her hand wrap around my wrist gently.

"Rai. I'm… I'm really sorry about what happened last year. All they told me was that they were going to ransom you to the cops. They didn't say they were going to hurt you like that."

Her face looks earnest, but I still have reservations. I can't afford not to.

"I wish I believed you, Jasha. I really do," I say, pulling away gently.


	13. Chapter 13: Revolutions Per Minute

I'm not a good person. That much has probably become obvious to you by now, but I figured I'd get ahead of the criticism- call me proactive.

My life hasn't really improved the situation of, well, anyone. I take advantage of people's desperation and loss to make money; I benefit from others' anguish. I've killed maybe a dozen people in my career, and probably wounded three times that number. I scoff at idealism and criticize enthusiasm.

In short, I'm a miserable piece of Komodo-Rhino shit. I'll be the first to admit that.

I like to think it's not _entirely_ my fault, though.

Despite my current passion for living in the scummy underbelly of Republic City, I wasn't always living paycheck to paycheck. I was born to wealth, actually. A perfect little life of leisure, education, and safety.

My father was- or _is_ , I suppose- a moderately successful businessman back in the Fire Nation. Saemo Supplies, which the bastard named after himself, still carts random shit around the Fire Nation's smoke-filled cities with a ruthless efficiency that matches the man himself.

My father is a… demanding man. He had expectations for me. I was to be a perfect heir to the Saemo Supplies empire; a corporate leader ingrained with a cold, emotionless efficiency. When I didn't conform to those expectations, which was a common occurrence, he was equally emotionless in his retribution. Of course, he never dared to verbally abuse me when Mom was around, but her military career took her all over the world, and he found more than enough chances.

I like to think she didn't know. I loved my Mom more than anything in the world, and I knew that when she was home, I was safe from the constant, cutting insults and abuse. In retrospect, however, I can't help but realize that there was no way she didn't see the sunken, empty look in the eyes of my brother and I. Maybe that's why Mom and my father fought so much. They hardly spoke, and Mom took every opportunity she could to take us with her on deployment, but my father wanted his perfect heir.

And, of course, I couldn't leave Lee on his own. My father liked to prey on Lee the most; he used to call him a weak-spined coward, a shameful shit-stain, and a litany of other insults tearing down my brother's masculinity, identity, even his existence. The man never lifted a finger against us- I doubt he had the balls to hurt us while Mom was alive- but he knew how to manipulate our minds.

He is, after all, a successful businessman.

Even after gangsters from the Agni Kai Triad attacked our home and burned it down, we remained a dysfunctional family in every respect, rotting apart from the inside. Then, after Mom passed, there was no final movement towards unity; my father disowned me and my new career in the military and turned his efforts towards my poor brother, building a perfect corporate scion from the empty husk he had turned Lee into.

I haven't been back home since I joined the Domestic Forces, all those years ago. I went to my Mom's funeral in the capital, and then I fled the Fire Nation, leaving my father, my brother, and my best friend behind with the desperate hope that distance and drink could make me forget.

Instead, I swapped one nightmare for another.

Ironically, I find that I think about those days _more_ when I'm drunk. I suppose that in a way, it means I've succeeded in forgetting the memories of the horrible shit I've seen in this damned city. Yet I know more than most that the past is a vengeful enemy.

I sit on my couch groggily, staring at the empty bottle of fire whiskey held loosely in my hand. I'm not really sure what day it is, truth be told. I think it's been about two days since I met Jasha and made my plans to track down Napua, but judging by the piles of empty alcohol bottles scattered around my living room, it's really hard to say. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

A knock on my door scares the shit out of me, and I stumble over to the door, my head pounding as the memory of binge drinking takes its toll on my body. I open the door slowly, scrabbling with the many locks I've installed, and see only a pile of mail; my rent bill is on top, and below it is a pile of other not-so-fun items.

I curse to myself as I pick up the pile. I'm late on the rent, again. Somehow my self-destructive tendencies led me to believe that spending my last payment on booze was actually a _good_ idea.

I flip through the mail, tossing advertisements, newspapers, and unpaid bills aside until I notice one towards the middle. It's a smallish, medium-sized envelope, damp from the leaky ceiling's incessant drips. I glance at the upper left corner of the envelope, and feel my heart lurch a little.

LEE OSADA

77 TAZO ST.

FIRE FOUNTAIN CITY, FIRE NATION

I haven't heard from my brother for years, mostly because I've felt too guilty to reach out to him. That makes me a shitty person, I know, but leaving him behind with my father is one of the biggest regrets of my life. I open the letter nervously, walking back to my desk.

 _Rai-_

 _It's been a while._

 _I'm writing to say goodbye. I heard that there's trouble in Republic City. Hopefully you're as safe as anyone can be in that cesspool. I'm mainly writing because I saw your name in a newspaper, something to do with the arrest of a Triad criminal._

 _I don't know if you'll get this. I don't know if you've even tried to write at all these last few years. And I'm sorry to say that at this point I don't really care. You abandoned the family. You've had years to reach out to us, to send a message, a telephone call, anything._

 _But you haven't._

 _So if you decide to try, just don't. I don't need you anymore. Father says that you died the day you joined the military. Maybe he's right._

 _I hope you find happiness and belonging somewhere. The sister I knew and loved deserved that much. And if that sister I would have died for ever decides to return, then maybe we can be a family again. Until then, I wish you luck with whatever you're doing and I bid you farewell._

 _-Lee_

I stare at the letter in shock, and read the words again and again. They hurt just as bad every time. Each word carries the weight of a sledgehammer, wreathed in finality and sadness. In my mind, I can see my brother as he was when he was 12; an wide-eyed, goofy kid with a shock of messy black hair, large ears, and a mischievous grin that always meant a day of fun. A kid who would race me to the fire fountain and dive in, looking for coins and scampering off before the local cops could even react.

Part of me wants to believe that he's been corrupted by our father, twisted and deformed by my father's insidious influence. But the rest of me knows he has a point. I left my family behind, ugliness and all, out of fear.

I realize, as I read the words again, that I'll never see my brother again.

I reach for a half-full bottle of Baiju, and I feel the tears stream down my cheeks as the harsh taste of the alcohol attacks my mouth. I feel empty and desperate.

I feel alone.

* * *

There's nothing quite like the revelation that the power that you once held so dear is suddenly irrelevant.

It began slowly, at first. Murmurs and worried, hushed whispers on street corners and tea shops. People began to leave, one at a time, claiming they were going abroad on business or visiting family in the countryside. The wealthy of the city decided, almost in unison, to take their vacations on Ember Island, Kyoshi Island, or any one of the thousands of resorts and tourist towns across the world.

In time, though, even someone as perpetually drunk as me could notice the fear gripping the city.

As I walk through the streets, trying my best to keep the brim of my hat from allowing any blinding sunlight to reach my eyes, I can feel the specter of Amon following me. "The Revelation", as people have begun calling it, has changed Republic City from its seediest gutters to its brightest towers. That the leader of the Equalists can actually take a person's bending away is a monumental development, especially considering that it used to be a power held only by the glowy-eyed pricks of the world.

Suddenly, that status quo that we benders took for granted, the one that led us to believe, whether we had formal training or a few lessons in a dingy dojo downtown when we were kids, that we were untouchable, was gone. Now, we were as vulnerable as the non-benders, and even those who never lifted a finger against the non-benders, who treated all equally, were at risk of losing a part of their identity.

It's changed things. People watch each other more closely; for the first time, both benders and non-benders live in a state of fear. Cop cars are more frequently seen around town, especially in the non-bending districts. Trust, which has never been an abundant resource in Republic City, is gone entirely. After all, what is trust when you can wander down a dark alley and get captured by chi-blockers?

Of course, no one's really all that upset that Lightning Bolt Zolt lost his bending. The man is a prick of the highest order, and the fact that he can't fry poor debtors or idealistic judges is a loss for no one, but if one of the most powerful crime bosses in the city can get his power and identity utterly stripped away, then no one's really all that safe now, are they?

Spirits, even I'm scared, and I'm still half drunk most of the time.

My thoughts turn to Tak. I want to apologize to him, to make sure he's safe, and to quit all of the shitty habits that are making me more miserable than ever before, but some nefarious mixture of pride and shame prevent me from doing it.

Like I said; I'm not a good person.

I finish my walk gratefully, scraping my cigarette against the rough cement banister that marks the beginning of Unity Bridge, overlooking Yue Bay and Avatar Aang Memorial Island. I breathe in the sea air, which is fresher than most, and take a moment to enjoy the view. For all of its ugliness, the City of Dreams is certainly beautiful. I stare at the distant, impassive figure of Avatar Aang as I wait and wonder if the man who helped found Republic City ever saw the ugly side of it. Certainly he got a glimpse, taking down Yakone back in the day, but it's hard to know how bad Republic City can get from the idyllic sanctuary of Air Temple Island.

How nice it must be to meditate and train all day, thoughts turned to matters of spirituality and bending. Meanwhile, mere miles away, if you don't think about yourself- and only yourself- survival is far from a sure thing.

My mind turns to our new Avatar. The girl has gall, that's for damned sure; rumor has it that she was even at the Revelation and took on Amon himself, which is damned impressive if you ask me, provided it's true. Then again, she's just that: a country kid. I know from personal experience that the Southern Water Tribe has its own rough spots, but is that really apparent from the glittering palace she no doubt lived in, being Chief Tonraq's daughter?

I find myself hoping, earnestly this time, that she has what it takes to deal with Amon. I'm not exactly one to cower and hope that the Avatar fixes all of my problems, but it's starting to seem like she's the only thing that will save our collective asses from that masked freak.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" asks a voice next to me.

I jump slightly. Jasha, as always, seems to have a penchant for appearing out of nowhere. I let out a shaky sigh, breathing out a stream of smoke from my cigarette.

"Sure."

"You ever wonder what it's like? To live out there?" she asks, jutting her pointed chin towards the spires of Air Temple Island, where several air bison float languidly.

"Nice, I bet. A life full of meditation, a vegetarian diet, and blowing air out of one's ass," I say harshly.

Jasha shoots me a look.

"You're cheerful today."

I take another pull from my Blue Spirit.

"Sure am. What've you got?"

Jasha turns, leaning against an iron railing casually.

"Not much. Amon's little show in Gyokai Borough really has people freaked, and for good reason. The Equalists, it seems, have been pouring people and material into the city for the last few years. The masked freak knows what he's doing, I'll give him that much. He's got most of the criminals in this town diving for a hiding place, and most of my usual sources have either gone silent or have left the city altogether. Things aren't all that good in the rest of the Republic, either."

I flick my cigarette into the bay, and promptly light another.

"As for our girl, that's harder. It's clear, from what I've heard and what you uncovered, that she's involved with the Equalists, but to be honest I haven't got the faintest idea where she's gone. Trust me, these Equalists have got safehouses and underground bases all across the city, and I'm betting she's in one of those."

I look at her skeptically, causing her to roll her eyes in response.

"I wasn't exactly twiddling my thumbs when I was conning you. I might not have joined the organization, but I did a little digging while I was there."

"Right," I retort "I _almost_ forgot."

" _Any_ ways," she says, "I'm honestly at a loss here. This is above my expertise. You'd need serious resources to find her at this point."

An idea occurs to me, and I grin.

"What?" Jasha asks, seeing the look on my face.

"I have an idea."

* * *

The Fire Nation Embassy in Chikara Borough is, no surprise, a tall red building emblazoned with the gold-and-red Fire Nation flag wherever possible. The two uniformed firebenders outside the perimeter gate eye us carefully as we approach, the bigger one of the two holding his hand up gruffly.

"Halt. State your business and please produce some form of identification."

I roll my eyes, fishing my tattered Fire Nation passport out of my coat and passing it over to the burly soldier, who reads it intently.

"I'm here to visit an old friend of mine."

The guard glances up at me, then back down at my passport.

"And her?"

"My girlfriend. She's harmless, I promise," I say smoothly, ignoring the sideways glance Jasha flashes me.

"Fine. You may enter."

The guards open the smooth, jet-black gates, ushering us inside the diplomatic compound. Inside the plain concrete wall is a lush, expansive garden of lush fire lilies, Gobbler-Gourds, and a thousand other plants from the forests and mountains of the Fire Nation, filling the air with the thick but pleasant smell of home.

As we walk into the cool interior of the building, I can't help but feel a pang of homesickness. I've lived in Republic City for many years now, but the Fire Nation will always be my homeland. One I want to see again deep down, despite the fact that I probably can never return. Especially now that my brother seems to hate me.

We approach the main desk of the lobby, and are greeted by a prim-and-proper secretary who looks at my worn-out trench coat and Jasha's simple dress with dismay. He adjusts his glasses, looking at us with that snooty air of superiority that my people tend to have.

"How may I help you, ah…"

"My name is Rai. I'm a private detective, and I'm looking for Colonel Arun Divakar. Tell him that Rai Osada wants to speak with him."

The secretary looks up at me in surprise, and I can instantly tell why. I curse inwardly, and the old suppressed anger and resentment float up again as the secretary looks at me with renewed interest.

" _Osada_? As in…"

I cut him off impatiently.

"Yep. Just go find Divakar, would you?"

The secretary picks up a phone quickly, and I take a few steps away from the desk, settling down into a red couch. Jasha sits beside me, her face sly.

"So… what's so special about your last name? That secretary practically pissed himself after you told him your last name."

"It's nothing," I reply, grumpily. I had hoped she wouldn't have picked up on that, but of course, she did.

"What're you, nobility or something? Do you fire tossers have that? Ooh, are you related to the Firelord?"

"No," I sigh. "My father… well, he's fairly well known in the Fire Nation, and let's leave it at that."

"Are you _rich_?" she asks, practically salivating.

"No. Just drop it, okay?"

"I mean-"

Thankfully, Jasha's next words are interrupted by the arrival of a short but powerful frame of my old friend Arun, who wears his Fire Nation officer's uniform with pride, practically marching into the lobby like he's back on a parade ground.

"Rai! Spirits, I didn't think I'd ever see your beautiful face back over here. Did you reconsider my request for a date?"

I shake my head, smiling.

"It's good to see you, Arun. Allow me to introduce Jasha. She's helping me with an investigation."

Arun smoothly grasps Jasha's hand loosely, kissing it softly with all the grace of a practiced member of the Fire Nation's aristocracy which, strictly speaking, he is.

"It's truly a pleasure, _Lady_ Jasha. What can I help you lovely ladies with?"

"Can we talk somewhere private?" I ask, glancing around at the mostly-empty room.

"Of course. Follow me," Arun says.

We follow Arun through the maze of corridors and hallways, passing traditional paintings of the Fire Nation, mixed with portraits of Firelord Izumi's stern face until we reach an office at the corner of the building which features large windows overlooking Chikara borough, with the rich blue waters of Yue Bay glittering beyond the red pointed roofs of the Fire Nation-dominated borough.

He settles behind a pristinely maintained desk, opening the top button of his uniform as a cool sea breeze whisks through the room.

"It's been quite a while, Rai. Can I get either of you anything? Tea? Watermelon juice? Water?"

I hold up a hand, and Arun quiets down, his easy grin lingering on his face with the practiced gaze of a man who relies on pure charisma.

"I need a favor, Arun. I was hoping you'd help me."

Instantly, Arun's smile fades, and a tenseness settles in his golden eyes.

"Ah. Of course," he says tightly, "I wouldn't have thought you'd visit me for any other reason. What do you need?"

I glance at Jasha.

"I need you to help us find someone. Her name's Napua- a journalist for the Republic City Herald who's been writing pro-Equalist articles slandering prominent benders. I've uncovered evidence that she's somehow involved in the Equalist movement, but she's disappeared without a trace. That's where you come in."

Arun's face is unreadable. For all of his flirtatious and joking posturing, I know the man is dangerous, and I sense that I'm treading on brittle rock.

"Why not ask any of the degenerate criminals you usually associate yourself with these days? I'm sure the _Triads_ would know where she is better than I- if they haven't fled the Equalists yet," he says, standing and staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

"The Triads don't have the same network you do. You're a Colonel in the Military Intelligence Service. You know everything that's going on in the city- it's your job."

Arun smiles tensely.

"And this led you to believe you could leverage state secrets out of me?" he challenges.

I frown and we make eye contact, a silent battle of wills playing out between us.

"You owe me, Arun. You help me find this person, and we're even."

"I'm not sure the task you ask is equal to what is owed, Osada."

I maintain my glare at him, and we sit in silence for several tense minutes. I try to convey, as best I can, a reminder that he wouldn't have the job he currently has, if it weren't for my discovery that his old boss was taking money from the Triads. Finally, he relents.

"Fine. I'll put my network on it, but you're playing a dangerous game, Rai. The Equalists are not to be underestimated; they have cells all over the world. Firelord Izumi is considering sending military aid to combat them, and there's talk of redeploying the United Forces from their peacekeeping mission in the Si Wong Desert back here. It's a dangerous time to be a bender, so watch yourself."

"Worry about yourself," I retort. "I can take care of myself. I'll wait for your signal."

Arun nods. I stand and leave quickly, pausing by the door to look at him at his desk, where he sits with his hands knotted in deep thought.

"Thanks, Arun."

He doesn't respond, and I take it as my cue to leave.

* * *

As the sun sets on the horizon, I lean against the railing of the Chikara Borough's seaside overlook, staring at downtown Republic City pensively. Jasha joins me after a while, handing me a cold, blue-colored Varri-Cone. I bite into the sweet and soft ice cream, which does little to quell the fear bubbling in my stomach.

"Nothing will be the same now, will it?" I ask. "The old order is done for. A new world is rising, and whether we like it or not, Amon and his followers are the ones causing it."

"You're right," she replies, grimly. "But then, nothing ever really stays the same. The weak will always be preyed upon by the strong. Whether the benders will become the weak, or if they remain the strong, the world will still be shitty, but a different _kind_ of shitty. _Like the hunting sand-shark, life is always changing_ ," she intones.

I glance at her questioningly.

"An old saying in the Si Wong Desert."

I snort.

"Right. Your cover."

"You know, not all of what I told you back then was a lie. Ju always sai-" she stops herself abruptly. "Well, an old friend told me that the best cons always incorporate the truth in some way. Makes it more convincing. I was born in Shen City to a family from the Xu Tribe, like I said," she says, almost indignant.

Jasha smiles wistfully to herself. Her smile, as always, plays havoc with my insides.

"Shen isn't as big as Omashu or anything, but it's a harsh life. The desert tends to have that effect," she says.

She hesitates for a moment, and then rolls up her sleeve. On her upper bicep is a small but noticeable red tattoo, that of a red desert-crawler.

"The Red Crawlers took me in when I was eight. When I saved up enough to leave- and there was no Vinh, by the way, he's a mainland boy through and through- I came to Republic City and worked for the Terras until I managed to get out. I swore that I'd never be a slave to the Triads again, that the next time we worked together, it would be as partners."

She glances back at me and looks away from my captivated look shyly.

"What?"

"My gut tells me you're playing me again, but _Spirits_ , Jasha, I can't help but find you incredibly attractive right now."

She smiles.

"I'm glad to hear that; you gonna do anything about that?"

I lick the ice cream again, looking back at the bay coyly.

"The world might be going to shit Jasha, but I've still got a code of honor. Though I suppose we have some downtime until Arun gets us the intel."

I finish the cone, tossing it down towards the beach, where some sea-vultures begin fighting over it. I loop my arm through Jasha's and walk towards the distant Fire Nation cultural center, where the vibrant nightlife is already awakening, and pull her along.

Jasha smiles, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk.

"What shall we do with ourselves, detective?"

I grin.

"Let's find some trouble."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey guys! Like I said in my last note, I'm finally back. I've been slaving over this chapter for while, and this is probably the fifth or sixth complete rewrite of the chapter. A deadly mix of writer's block, a busy schedule, and working on some personal projects delayed the release of this chapter. I know a lot of you guys were worried that I was abandoning this story; believe me, while it might take a lot of time to put out chapters, if I ever decide to abandon this story (and I have no intention of doing that anytime soon), I'll tell you guys definitively.**

 **In any case, I thank you for your patience, and welcome feedback as always. And if you decide to move on due to the unpredictable update schedule; no hard feelings- I understand how frustrating it can be to wait for a fic that is never updated again. If you decide to stick around, I hope you enjoy!**

 **I'm hard at work on the next chapter, and while I won't even attempt to say exactly when it will be released, I hope it will be in the next week or so.**

 **Thank you guys so much for your support,**

 **IGdude117**


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